Half Lives
by Addicts Inc
Summary: Harry wasn't about to let Sirius die in the Department of Mysteries, even if it meant falling through the Veil himself. Much to everyone's surprise, Harry survived, but then things began to go downhill, and it soon became clear he wasn't quite himself. AU
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer;**__This story picks up from the end of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and as such the first chapter is based heavily on a chapter in the book. The rest of the story follows its own path. But all credit goes to J. K. Rowling, for the whole series, but especially for this chapter._

Half Lives – Chapter One

"DUMBLEDORE!"

Neville and Harry stared at the usually kindly old man. Today he was standing, wand held aloft, white faced and furious, looking down upon the fight below him. Relief engulfed Harry. He had been wrong, they couldn't sneak in and out of the Department of Mysteries and remain unscathed. They were just a bunch of teenagers.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" One pair hadn't realised that their companions had stopped to stare at the most powerful wizard of their time. Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange were still sending unknown spells at each other. Some nasty, and some nastier.

A red jet of light caught Sirius square in the chest. He hadn't even stopped laughing at his cousin for her incompetence.

Harry released Neville, although he was unaware of doing so. He jumped down the steps, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore too turned towards the dais.

-0-

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc.

-0-

Harry watched in horror as his godfather, the most important person in his life, flew off his feet. The Veil behind him began waving, as though a wind ruffled its folds, a wind unfelt by the room. But Sirius' hair was being blown about, caught in the same wind.

He wasn't going to get there in time. Sirius was going to go through that Veil. And the thought of that chilled Harry to the bone.

"_ACCIO BOOTS_!"

"Oof." Harry had not thought this through. His own spell overrode Bellatrix's- the boots that were very firmly laced onto Sirius' feet came crashing into him, their owner following not long after, throwing them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Sirius was the first to recover, sitting up and rubbing the smoking hole in his robes.

"That hurt."

Harry found his glasses and shoved them back on. He could only gape wordlessly at his godfather. As soon as their eyes met, Sirius seemed to remember what was happening all around them, and jumped to his feet.

Too late.

Bellatrix's face was twisted into an ugly, vicious expression. She snarled. Another beam of red light coursed its way through the air, splintering like lightening. A tired expression flooded over Sirius' face, and suddenly it occurred to Harry that Sirius wouldn't mind not having to go back to Number Twelve. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't thinking.

He darted forward and shoved Sirius in the ribs. Hard.

Tensed for spell impact, but not fight, Sirius was unprepared and unsuspecting. He toppled over, catching onto Harry's arm as he did so, in an effort to remain on his feet. He fell back to the floor, jerking Harry forward and into the path of that crackling red spell.

It happened to quickly for Sirius to think. One moment, he was falling back, Harry's arm clasped in his hands; the next, he was on the floor, and Harry had been thrown off his feet and had slammed into the waving material of the Veil.

-0-

Bellatrix screamed. A horrible, twisting, shrieking sound. That wrenched at Sirius' eardrums, throat and heart. It took a moment for him to realise that the wrenching in his throat was because he too was screaming.

"No! Master! What have I done? Master!"

"No! Harry! What have I done? Harry!"

"No! It isn't happening! MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED – DO NOT PUNISH ME -"

"Don't waste your breath! He can't here you from here!"

"Can't I, Black?" said a high, cold voice.

Sirius opened his eyes.

Tall, thin and black-hooded, his terrible snake like face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes staring…Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Sirius who stood frozen, unable to move.

"So, you killed Harry Potter?" Said Voldemort softly, still staring at Sirius with those pitiless red eyes, but speaking to Bellatrix. "No Bella, it is happening. Months of preparation, months of effort…my Death Eater, you have killed Harry Potter. He was mine!" Voldemort snarled and spun round suddenly, his wand snapping to Bellatrix, who fell to the floor, writhing in a soundless scream.

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not. I was fighting the Animagus Black!" Bellatrix sobbed, as the spell was lifted, flinging herself down at Voldemort's feet, as he paced slowly nearer.

-0-

"Ow…My head."

Sirius whipped round, movement finding his limbs once more. He laughed shrilly, slightly hysterically, as Harry sat up on the other side of the Veil, holding his head in one hand and groaning.

"Master, you should know-"

"Be quiet, Bella." Voldemort said dangerously. "I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your snivelling apologies?"

"But Master – he is here – he is below-"

"I have nothing more to say to you. Potter - " he said quietly, "You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry had not even opened his mouth to resist; his mind was blank, his wand lay uselessly on the floor.

But the newly headless golden statute of the wizard in the fountain had sprung to life, leaping from its plinth to land with a crash on floor between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung its arms out to protect Harry.

"What-?" Cried Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed; "_Dumbledore_!"


	2. Chapter 2

Half Lives – Chapter Two

If Harry had expected a heartfelt reunion with his godfather when their feet touched back down in Dumbledore's office, he was sadly mistaken. Harry hit solid ground, his knees buckling a little as the golden statue Port Key fell to the ground with a resounding clunk. As his head cleared, he noticed that Sirius was standing beside him, holding him up, practically.

"Sirius!" He cried. "I thought-"

"What in all that is magic did you think you were doing?" Sirius roared, grabbing Harry painfully by the shoulder and dragging him across the room. The innumerable portraits began to wake up, complaining about the noise.

"What? What are you on about, Sirius? Didn't you see? They were-"

"Running off like that! Going to the Department of Mysteries. _Leaving_ Hogwarts!" Sirius threw him into the chair opposite the Headmaster's desk.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked, looking around the room in panic.

"Taking your friends to St Mungo's. Smoothing things over with the Ministry." Sirius said with more than a hint of bitterness. "He'll be a few minutes." Sirius ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, and began to pace back and forth in rapid strides. "Your _friends_ Harry! What- I don't see – just what could possess you to do that?"

Harry sank back into his chair, quailing slightly under Sirius' wrath. "I thought, I thought they had you." He said quietly.

"What?" Sirius stopped pacing and rounded on him, his normally smiling mouth a snarl. Harry was horrified to see more than a passing resemblance to Bellatrix.

"I thought they had you! Alright?" Harry yelled, jumping up out of his chair, his hands balled into fists

"No it is not alright! It is far from alright!" Sirius stepped away from Harry and began walking again. "What about that mirror I gave you? It meant to prevent exactly this! Didn't you think to check?"

"I didn't have time to think!"

"There is always time to think!" Sirius snapped. "And how did you find out about my _capture_, exactly? Did Lucius send you a letter?" He asked sardonically.

"No! I saw them torturing you! Okay? Every night for a year! And will you stop pacing!" Harry spat.

"Which is exactly what Snivillus was giving you those lessons for! Merlin Harry, for once you could have just applied yourself to your studies! Then we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Oh, I've got to '_apply myself to my studies'_, do I? That's rich, coming from you! Who are you now, my father?" Harry sniped.

"No! Because he's dead. Like we nearly were!"

"Well we're okay _now_, aren't we?"

"We're okay? Oh yes Harry, _we're_ okay. But what about the others? The Order? Your friends? Merlin Harry! What were you thinking? They're your friends!"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Harry cried, covering his hands with his ears and closing his eyes.

"Stop being a child!" Sirius ordered harshly, ripping his hands from his ears and shoving him back down into his seat.

"I _am_ a child!" Harry protested, probably the only time he ever would admit that. "I'm just sixteen!"

"I know Harry, I know." Sirius said, suddenly going quiet. He pulled the headmaster's chair from behind the desk, and sat down heavily. "Believe me, I know." He sounded tired. "But you're more than old enough to use common sense."

This time, Harry didn't retaliate. He just sat and stared at his godfather.

-0- 

"Just, why didn't you check Harry? Why didn't you find out if I was even home?" Sirius asked, sadly, staring at the desk.

Harry mimicked his godfather and traced pattern in the wood with his eyes. "I tried to firecall you." He said in a small voice. "But Kreacher said you weren't there. I didn't have time to find out in person. I thought they'd got you."

"Kreacher said-!" Sirius broke out angrily. If looks could kill, that desk would be charcoal. "Why that lying little-!"

"Sirius Black!" said a cool voice. Sirius snapped his head up and twisted round in the Headmaster's chair to see the owner of the voice behind him. "You have no permission to be here, great-great-grandson." Phineas Nigellus said gravely. "You also have no right to disrespect you elf in such a manner."

"Well you have no right to tell me what to do!" Sirius retorted.

"Regrettably, I do. I have been assigned to watch over you, worthless task as it is. I see you bring Harry Potter with you." Harry looked up. "This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful Headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here?"

Harry could not speak. Portraits all around the room watched him blearily. It occurred to him that dawn was just breaking, and his and Sirius' argument must have woken them.

"I hope this means," said the corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind the Headmaster's desk, "that Dumbledore will soon be back among us?" The wizard was surveying Harry with great interest. Harry nodded. "Oh good, it has been very dull without him, very dull indeed." He settled himself on the throne-like chair with which he had been painted and smiled benignly upon Harry. "Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I'm sure you know." He said comfortably. "Oh yes, holds you in great esteem."

"That's enough, Phineas." Sirius said sharply.

"Disrespectful whelp." Phineas quipped, but otherwise remained silent.

-0- 

The empty fireplace burst into green flame. Both of the room's occupants whirled round to face it, and Sirius leaped out of the Headmaster's chair like he had been burnt. Professor Dumbledore unfolded himself from the fireplace and stepped out of the grate. The portraits covering the walls burst into cries of welcome. "Thank you." He said softly. "Well, Harry, you will be pleased to hear that none of your friends are going to suffer lasting damage from last night's events."

Harry attempted to say 'good', but appeared as though his throat had closed up. He felt as though Dumbledore was reminding him of how much damage his rashness had caused, and although Dumbledore was looking at Harry kindly, instead of avoiding his eye as he had the past months, Harry found he could not look at him. So he just nodded instead.

"Can't we just go back to bed, Albus? Harry needs medical care." Sirius said from behind the chair, still looking guilty.

"Not just yet, Sirius. There are things we must talk of. But first, let me say that it is my fault that the pair of you almost died tonight." Dumbledore said clearly. "Or should I say, _almost entirely_ my fault. Sirius, you are a brave, clever, and energetic man. And such men do not often allow themselves to sit at home in hiding whilst others are in danger. And Harry, I should never have neglected you into believing there was any need to go to the Department of Mysteries last night. If I had been open with you, from the start, then you would have recognised Voldemort's attack for what it was. Now," He said heavily, as he refilled Fawkes' water bowl, "what were you talking about before I so rudely interrupted?"

"Well?" Dumbledore asked when no one replied.

Sirius just made an angry growling noise, so Harry spoke to the carpet; "Professor, we were talking about Kreacher."

"Creeping, conniving low life." Sirius muttered.

"He told me Sirius wasn't at Number Twelve." Harry expanded.

Then, finding that he was filled with a sudden need to have Dumbledore understand his actions, to forgive him, maybe, Harry began to speak, his words tumbling over each other. "Because I went to find Sirius, that's why I was there. Those visions said he was being tortured. They wanted information on me. But he wouldn't tell. So I had to go get him. You weren't here to get him. I asked Kreacher, but he said Sirius wasn't there. I recognised the place in the dream. I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!"

Dumbledore held up one hand. Harry stopped abruptly.

-0- 

"Kreacher lied." Dumbledore said calmly. "You are not his Master, he could lie without fear of repercussion. Kreacher knew he was sending you to the Ministry of Magic. He intended it."

"He – he sent Harry on purpose?" Sirius asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh yes, I'm afraid Kreacher has been serving more than one Master for months." Dumbledore didn't appear very sorry, Harry thought viciously.

"How?" Sirius asked blankly, "He hasn't been out of Grimmauld for years."

"Kreacher took the opportunity some months pervious to now, when I believe Sirius told him to 'get out'." Dumbledore said, speaking to Harry. "He took Sirius literally, and went to the only other Black for whom he held respect. Narcissa Black. Sirius' cousin, Bellatrix's sister, and Lucius Malfoy's wife."

"How, how do you know all this?" Harry asked, feeling very sick as he remembered his own worry over Kreacher's absence that Christmas.

And then, Dumbledore explained how the Order arrived at the ministry. And once he had finished, he explained exactly why Harry had that scar, and exactly why the Potters had gone into hiding, exactly why Harry had been hunted by Voldemort for all these years. He explained exactly why he hadn't wanted to tell Harry this previously, exactly what repercussions it would have, and exactly why he would be murdered or a murderer.


	3. Chapter 3

Half Lives – Chapter Three

"What I don't exactly understand, Harry," Hermione began forthrightly, "is what on earth happened that night." She finished packing Harry's school robes, and looked around for something else to pack.

"Then you understand more than me." Ron admitted glumly. "Because I haven't got the foggiest."

"Look, you two," Harry began in a low voice, glancing sideways at his cousin Dudley, who was looming in the doorway, "perhaps we could just talk about this _after_ we get to Number Twelve."

Hermione gave him a look, "You're not putting this off forever, you know. Now where do you keep your socks?"

Harry waved a hand towards his chest of draws, and he and Ron made faces at each other behind Hermione's back as she organised Harry. "Wait!" Harry cried, flinging himself forward.

Hermione shut the draw with a snap. She spun round and kept her hands on the draw behind her. "There is _underwear_ in there." She said flatly.

"Err…yeah. I just remembered. Sorry." Harry said awkwardly.

Hermione took a deep breath as Ron sniggered. "So, I'll just pack your school supplies, shall I?"

"Because Harry'll need skin of Boomslang for the next few weeks, won't he?" Ron quipped.

"He probably won't be coming back here before school starts." Hermione explained. "So you see Ron, he needs to organise his Boomslang now, or when it gets to Potions, he'll put Babbling Bane in the cauldron instead. And then where will we be?"

"Where will we be indeed."

With every mention of 'Boomslang' or 'Potions' or 'Babbling Bane' Harry could see his cousin flinch. By the time Hermione had reached the word 'cauldron' Dudley had left. Harry still couldn't believe this. He sat down on the end of his bed, and watched his two best friends happily, as they bumbled around his room, trying to pack his stuff and getting under each other's feet. That Tuesday, Harry had received a short letter from the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore himself. In its thin, slanted handwriting, the letter announced that Dumbledore would be arriving in person that Friday at eleven pm to take Harry to Number Twelve, where he had been invited to spend the holidays. It also teasingly mentioned another, yet unnamed, matter that he wanted Harry's help with.

The letter that had arrived three days ago, tightly scrolled, now lay, perfectly flat, on his windowsill, which was the only clear surface in the room. Harry hadn't packed yet. He couldn't help but feel it was all too good that he was to be released from his confinement in Number Four Privet Drive after just two weeks of summer holiday. He couldn't help but feel that his reply might have got lost, that Dumbledore wouldn't turn up, that it had been a trick or a joke, that no one was coming to take him away at all. He couldn't help but feel that it would all go wrong.

So when, on the dot at eleven pm, the lights outside Number Four had been extinguished, and the voices floating from downstairs not only belonged to Uncle Vernon and Dumbledore, but also to Ron and Hermione, Harry suddenly wished he had packed. Or at least tidied. But, help was at hand, in the forms of Ron and Hermione, whilst Dumbledore kept Vernon and Petunia occupied downstairs, talking about something or other that involved threatening the Dursleys. 

* * *

><p>"Harry."<p>

Harry looked up; Sirius was glowering down at him from the doorway of Number Twelve. Considering that they hadn't seen each other since the night that Voldemort confronted them at the Ministry, and the pair of them had almost died, Harry was slightly surprised that Sirius still seemed so angry. As his godfather glared down at him like that, Harry could remember with full force how terrifying he had looked when they had first met.

"Kreacher has something to say to you." Sirius growled in the same voice, and shoved what looked like a collection of moving wrinkles in front of him. Sirius kept both his hands on the house elf's shoulders. "Don't even think about struggling." Sirius whispered. "You're not going anywhere. Speak, Kreacher. I order you to speak!"

"Kreacher must apologise to Harry Potter Boy. Kreacher had been ordered-!" The old elf's voice hitched up in a squeak, as Sirius shook him. "Kreacher has apologised! Kreacher has apologised! Foul Master! Punishes Kreacher when he does foul Master's repulsive bidding!"

"Get out of my sight!" Sirius spat, throwing the elf behind him. "And don't you dare leave this house, or communicate with any individual not on The List!"

Hermione's small hand curled around Harry's elbow, and he turned to see her regarding Sirius with a nauseous look. Ron glanced at Harry over her head and patted her on the shoulder gingerly. "Hello Sirius." Harry said finally.

"Harry!" Sirius cried joyfully, as though the last few events had never happened. "Come in, come in! And Ron and Hermione too! The house is still standing, and there's a few good people in it!" He ushered them in, taking their coats hospitably, but then ruining the illusion as he chucked them on the growing pile on the floor. "They may be the only two positives to this place, and most of them think I'm guilty, but what can you do? Ah! Albus!" Sirius smiled at the old man too, but turned away and left him to show himself in, drop his own cloak on the floor and shut the door behind him.

* * *

><p>As soon as the teenagers were able to do so, they headed to the boys' room. Ron and Hermione ushered Harry in, shut the door and sat down the bed facing him expectantly.<p>

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed as the pair of them stared at him.

"Where did Dumbledore take you?" Ron began in a conspiratal whisper. "He sent us to the Burrow first, made us pick up our stuff. Mum wouldn't let us leave though, she kept trying to hold us behind."

"We eventually got it out of Ginny that Dumbledore had asked not to have us arrive before you did, because he was taking you somewhere first."

"Oh." Harry felt a strong sense of relief that they were starting with something as easy as that. "We went to see an old teacher. Horace Slughorn. Lived in Budleigh Babberton. Or, sort of did. He had taken over someone's house for the week."

"That's terrible! What did he do to them?" Hermione cried, her hands going to her mouth.

"No, no. They were on holiday." Harry quickly corrected himself.

"So what did Dumbledore what you there for?" Ron asked incredulously – he had been expecting some big adventure.

"Erm…to remind the old professor what he was missing out on by not teaching. I think he's coming back to teach this year."

"Defence?" Ron asked, automatically.

"Probably." Harry shrugged. "He used to be Head of Slytherin though."

"Well. Maybe he won't be as biased towards his House as Snape is in lesson." Hermione said, with a stern look at Ron, who was wincing.

"Oh yeah," Harry said suddenly remembering, "and I don't have to have Occlumency lessons with Snape this year!"

There was a brief moment of congratulations and celebration, before Hermione, ever the voice of reason, asked; "But, Dumbledore's just going to leave you defenceless against You-Know-Who? He can't. He just can't. You wouldn't survive five minutes!" Then, seeing the look in Harry's face, she smiled and added, "Not that I don't believe in you, Harry."

"He seems to think that Voldemort has shut the connection-thing down." Harry rubbed his scar unknowingly. "I haven't had any dreams all summer."

"It's only been two weeks." Ron said ominously.

"Anyway." Hermione shot Ron a frown. "The link's gone, that's really good!"

"Mm…I've still got to do extra lessons though." Harry admitted.

"Oh no, not How To Be A Greasy Scumbag by Professor Snape." Ron groaned. Even Hermione laughed.

"Actually, I've no idea what they will be." Harry shuffled about in his place. "They're with Dumbledore though. And he thinks I should keep the Invisibility Cloak with me. Even at school. All day."

The three of them sat in silence for a while, contemplating that the threat to Harry's life had increased.

"If it prevents You-Know-Who getting to you, like he did at the Ministry…"

"Harry…" Ron started slowly. "What _did_ happen? I mean, me and Hermione, we've done research. And, well, you should be dead, mate."

"Yeah…" Harry stared at the quilt on his bed. He felt horribly as though he had swallowed something alive. It squirmed and wriggled in his stomach. This topic didn't sit well with Harry. To be frank, it freaked him out.

"No living thing can pass through that Veil Harry." Hermione said gently. "There isn't much known about the Veil, and even less written on it. But, what there is…seems to suggest that any living thing, never comes out again."

"I- I don't know." Harry said quietly, twisting the fabric between his fingers. "I have no idea. Everything went muffled, like when you go underwater. I was in the air for ages. Then, when I fell on the other side, I well, I _felt_ alive. I mean, I _feel_ alive."

They all stared at the same spot on the quilt, feeling horribly awkward. No one said anything for a full minute, until Ron tried to cheer things up by saying; "Man, this You-Know-Who bloke, he's really got it in for you, hasn't he?"

Harry laughed nervously. "About that…" He glanced up at them. "Dumbledore also said there was this Prophesy…"


	4. Chapter 4

Half Lives – Chapter Four

Harry lay in bed that night. Thinking. His arms were folded beneath his head and he stared up at the moisture stained ceiling which looked yellowed in the weak dawn sunlight. If he was honest, it was yellowed in every light. To his left, Ron lay curled up under the covers, sleeping peacefully. Harry envied him.

His parents' death had been decided by some batty fraud who liked cushions too much.

His spiteful Potions professor had effectively written their death certificates.

Dumbledore was to give him private lessons in the new term.

He had passed through the Veil and lived.

He had led his closest friends into the path of the worst Death Eaters and Voldemort himself.

Sirius had called him James.

He was being used as some bargaining chip in reinstating an old professor.

By hearing and believing the Prophesy, Voldemort had effectively set it in motion.

This last kept Harry's brain turning over more than anything had done in a very long time. It was true that, if Voldemort had remained ignorant of the Prophesy, Voldemort would have never set out to find the mentioned child. Lily Potter would never have set up blood protection. That child would never have been cursed. Voldemort would never have marked an equal. There would never have been a link between the two. The incident at the Department of Mysteries would never have happened. Harry would never have fallen through the Veil. Harry wouldn't be wide awake at dawn, agonizing over what, exactly, the Veil had done to him and how he had survived.

Harry freed one arm and rubbed his chest as though in pain. He frowned. He had lied. As he had fallen through the Veil, everything _had_ become muffled, he _had_ taken far too long to hit the ground, and he _had_ felt absolutely alive when he was eventually reacquainted with the ground. But...As he hung there, immobilised mid-flight, he felt torn. Gravity was pulling him to the ground, but, _something_, was pulling back. It writhed and twisted and hung on to the Veil, until suddenly, with a great whiplash of tension, the connection snapped, and Harry went sprawling to the ground.

Or, Harry thought darkly, the thing hadn't clung onto the Veil, the Veil had clung onto it.

A door banged.

Harry sat up sharply. His wand was in his hand and he was halfway to the door before he realised what he was doing. Harry faltered and looked back at his sleeping friend. Ron would skin him if Harry left him out of an exciting situation. But what if it wasn't 'exciting'? What if it was Death Eaters? What if they'd gotten to Kreacher? What if they'd gotten into the house? What if they were coming to kill everyone in their beds? What if they were coming to capture everyone and take them to separate locations, in far-flung corners of the world, which people no longer knew to look for, and they tortured them with ancient magics?

Harry then realised that maybe he was over reacting.

But still, what if it was...? Harry couldn't lead Ron into death's clutches, not again. There was a '_clink_!' from downstairs. Harry wheeled round to face the bedroom door. Whatever was going on, Harry wouldn't drag anyone else into this. Ron would just have to get over it. Better indignant and alive than gratified and dead. He crept downstairs, heart beating painfully in his chest. He followed the faint noises to the kitchen. A candle was lit. The light flickered beneath the door. Hoping their backs were turned, Harry gently inched the door open and peered through the gap. 

* * *

><p>There was no 'they'. There was Sirius Black. Sitting at the kitchen table with a goblet in his hand. Harry nearly laughed with relief. He pushed the door open properly and slipped through. "Hello." He said quietly. Sirius looked up sharply. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked ready to collapse from exhaustion, but he looked sane and calm, so Harry felt it safe to approach. "Can't sleep." He said by way of explanation of his presence. He sat at the table.<p>

"You should sleep." Sirius replied. "It's been a tough time. You're too young."

Harry didn't answer. Instead he asked; "Why are you up so early?"

"Can't sleep." Sirius shot back with a twisted grin. He lifted the goblet to his mouth and, after a contemplative pause, took a swig.

As Sirius swung the goblet back to the table, Harry caught a wave of sent. Whatever it was, it was alcoholic. Harry didn't want to dwell on his godfather's actions. They were no doubt a reference to Azkaban, and it didn't do to discuss such things. For despite the dependence and fierce affection that Harry held for his godfather, they actually had very little interaction, and barely knew each other. Maybe it was something to do with nearly losing him in the Department of Mysteries, but Harry wanted to change that.

"Sirius," Harry began awkwardly, "at the Ministry...thanks. You risked your discovery and your life by coming to rescue me." He looked down. "Um, thanks."

That clumsy teenage expression of sentiment had Sirius snorting into his goblet. "You'll understand one day. A child can never understand the love of a parent until he himself has children." Harry wished he was partially drunk, like Sirius, maybe then he would know how to respond to that. "You're not my son." Sirius continued. "But you may as well be." Harry wondered how much of this Sirius would have said had he not been drinking. "And you're not James. No matter how much you look like him, you're different. It's just, the shadows. It was so dark around the Veil, and you looked so much like James fighting alongside me, the two blurred...I think I called you James. Or maybe I called him Harry. It's hard to hold on to people after Azkaban. They overlap...I can't tell. But it holds onto me, and I'm drawn back. They flit in and out of the shadows, and they team up and sit with me through the night. Their half-lives and their half-words. I can't hear them, but I hear voices. Voices with no words. No meaning. Half-voices. Half-voices for half-lives for a half-human like me." He mumbled off, settling into a stupor, known only to Azkaban and himself.

Harry stood, knowing he was no longer part of this conversation, and, feeling uneasy, quietly went back upstairs. He pulled the covers up and rolled onto his back. He folded his arms beneath his head and he stared up at the moisture stained ceiling which looked yellowed even in the strengthening dawn sunlight. In the Department of Mysteries, Sirius had called him James.

To his left, Ron lay curled up under the covers, sleeping peacefully. Harry envied him.


	5. Chapter 5

Half Lives – Chapter Five

When Harry woke the next morning, it was to see his two best friends sitting on Ron's bed, surrounded by books and essays.

"Finally awake then?" Hermione asked archly.

"Err...yeah. What time is it?" Harry asked, hurriedly pushing himself upright and shoving his glasses on.

"Half eleven mate." Ron grinned. "Never seen you sleep this late outside of the Infirmary."

Hermione smiled too. "Come on, wake up properly and you can help us."

"Help...?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes before clambering over to the other bed.

"We're reading up on the Veil in the Ministry. But there's been disappointingly little, so we've broadened out into, well, pretty much everything."

"She's even got me checking old essays." Ron said reproachfully.

"You never know Ron. Besides, it's good revision. Best start early." So saying she handed him a pile of essays that looked suspiciously like Harry's own. "And you want to work out what that Veil did to Harry, don't you?"

Suddenly not interested, Harry got up abruptly and, grabbing his dressing gown, and headed for the door. "Hey! Where are you going?" Ron asked as he looked up.

Harry stared at him for a second, having no idea how to answer. He couldn't very well say 'anywhere but here'. "Breakfast." He said finally. "Or lunch. Whichever."

"We'll go down soon." Hermione assured Ron, who looked like he wanted to follow Harry.

Not waiting to listen to Ron's response, Harry let the door shut with a bang as he left. And almost ran straight into a Weasley. He couldn't tell which, red hair obscured his vision.

The red-head took a step back, and promptly turned as red as the hair that identified them.

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing?"

Ginny shook herself out and composed herself. "You're up to something." She announced shrewdly. "Hermione's been holed up in there with you two for hours. She took all her books in this morning. And before you say it," she said suddenly, "it is not homework; no matter how many times my brother may parrot it."

Harry shrugged. "I only just woke up." He half-lied. "Going to get food."

"Hm." She didn't seem to quite believe this. "I thought that maybe after the Ministry, you would at least let me know what you're doing. You're always scuttling off somewhere, whispering things to each other, getting into things that are far too big for you. And then you end up fighting for your life." She stared him down.

Harry quailed under her blazing look. "I'm going to get food." He repeated dumbly.

"I'd be careful." Ginny called after his retreating back. "The adults are arguing."

* * *

><p>Harry felt the tension long before he had walked into the kitchen. Mr Weasley, Moody and Mundungus were standing about looking shifty, but Mrs Weasley seemed set to go all day, and lastly, Sirius was gloomily sifting through some papers at the table. As Harry slid into his seat, none of the adults acknowledged him, bar the latter. Sirius caught his eye with a wry smile and rolled his eyes in the direction of the arguing adults.<p>

"What's going on?" Harry asked. Apparently they were going to ignore the previous night.

"Bill's moving to England, permanently." Sirius said quietly. "He's affianced. French girl."

With perfect timing, as though to answer his question, the argument broke through Harry and Sirius' quiet chat forcefully. "And you!" Mrs Weasley rounded on Mad-Eye, a rather brave thing to do, Harry thought. "Just rolled right over didn't you? She hasn't even been here five minutes and you're already extolling her grace with a wand. I thought you with your '_constant vigilance'_ would have been made of sterner stuff. You disappoint me." Harry began to have the feeling that it was Mrs Weasley against the entire male collective in this house. He was starting to wish he hadn't left his room. "And I saw that necklace you gave her, Mundungnus." She said sharply.

The grubby man cowered slightly. "It wus justa pretty bauble, tha's all." He mumbled.

"It wasn't even yours! You stole it!"

"Leave it, Molly." Sirius said tiredly, entering the fray.

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "It was yours?" He looked at Sirius in askance.

"I said leave it, its fine." Sirius dumped a sheaf of parchment on the ever growing 'useless' pile as he spoke.

"But he can't just take your stuff." Harry continued regardless, slightly aware that his current vitriol was at least partially fuelled by his recent desire to know his godfather better.

"If it was a Black heirloom, it'll find its way back here. They always do." Sirius said gloomily.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Mrs Weasley muttered to herself, the quiet voice picked out easily in the argument that had continued on without Harry or Sirius. "But you men ought to behave more like Sirius." That made everyone look up. "He hasn't been confounded by a supercilious little girl. He just greeted her and continued working, helping the Order. That's more than any of you can claim right now!" Harry raised his eyebrows at Sirius. The man ducked his head and muttered something. "And Arthur," Molly continued, "Fleur's you _son's fiancé_ for Morgana's sake-"

* * *

><p>"Did I 'ear my name?"<p>

Everyone stopped and looked to the doorway, where a young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow "I 'ave brought ze children down for lunch." She announced. "But I could not find – 'Arry!" She said in a throaty voice. "There you ar're! Eet 'as been too long!" As she swept over the threshold towards him, Hermione and Ginny were revealed, looking rather cross, and Ron too, who merely looked confunded.

"There was need to need to fetch them, I was just about to do it myself!" Molly protested.

"Eet was no trouble," said Fleur, swooping to kiss Harry on each cheek; he felt the places where her mouth had touched him burn. Sirius sniggered. "I 'ave been longing to see 'im. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh...is she here too?" Harry croaked.

"No, no, silly boy," said Fleur with a tinkling laugh, "I mean next summer, when we – but do you not know?"

"Sirius told me." Harry said hurriedly. He could not help noticing how Mrs Weasley, Hermione and Ginny were all avoiding each other's gaze and how the chastised men had slipped out the room, despite the promise of lunch. "Er – congratulations!"

Fleur swooped down upon him and kissed him again. "Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a while to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming – zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and cleaning! Now – enjoy _your_ lunch 'Arry, I must go meet Bill for ours." With those words she turned gracefully and seemed to float out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Mrs Weasley made a noise that sounded like 'tchah!'

Harry would never understand women.

* * *

><p>Lunch was a tense affair, revolving mostly around the recent addition to the Weasley family. From what Harry gathered the girls thought she was judgemental and patronising, and Mrs Weasley felt it was all a bit too soon for her eldest, despite Ginny's sly comment that Mr and Mrs Weasley were amongst the last war's many elopers. Even more amusingly, Ginny had also taken to calling her prospective sister-in-law 'Phlegm'. When Hermione turned on Ron for being slightly empty headed around 'Phlegm', Harry wisely stopped speaking. He risked a look sideways, to where he was expecting to see Sirius laughing at them, but the man was paused in eating his lunch, instead considering the adult's conversation earnestly.<p>

They were talking about Tonks, and with a start, Harry realised he hadn't seen or heard of her since Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore had arrived at the Dursleys'. As it was a weekend, several Order members were present. During the week just four Weasleys, Hermione, Harry, Sirius and Remus stayed in Number Twelve. Bill and Fleur had their own flat, but they popped in and out as fancy took them.

"If only Tonks would visit more." Mrs Weasley said mournfully.

"You're just trying to set her up." Hestia Jones, a merry black haired witch, said shrewdly from the far side of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Won't work." Moody added gruffly.

"Yeah, Tonksy's alright, she is." Dung said, surfacing from his plate, "she's a smart gal, and a Metamorph to boot, but she ain't no '_Fleur Delacour'_." His voice took on a flowery tone as he said her name.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Mrs Weasley said archly. "I just wanted to cheer her up a bit, that's all. She's been so down lately, I'm sure you've noticed. She's looked nearly identical every time we've seen her this past fortnight. If her metamorphosing's being affected..." She flustered under the sharp looks of half the table. "It might cheer her up..."

"Give it up Molly," Hestia said. "I was in training with her – you will never get her to do something she doesn't want to do." Sirius just grinned, and resumed eating.

On Harry's other side the conversation had come round to the absent Weasley members.

"Is the twin's shop doing alright then?" Harry asked, butting in somewhat.

"That's an understatement!" said Ron. "They're raking in the galleons! I can't wait to see the place. We haven't been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says Dad's got to be there for extra security and he's been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent."

"And what about Percy?" asked Harry. "Is he talking to your mum and dad again?"

"Nope." said Ron.

"But he knows your dad was right all along about Voldemort being back-"

"Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive people for being wrong than being right," said Hermione. "I wonder when he'll be sending our OWL results out."

Something clicked in Harry's mind. "Hang on," he said; remembering his conversation with the Headmaster, "I think Dumbledore said our results will be arriving today."

"Today?" shrieked Hermione. "_Today_? But why didn't you – oh my– you should have said-" She leapt up. The entire table turned to look at her. "I'm going to check for owls..." And she dashed out the room, presumably to check the drawing room, where the owl hatch was.

* * *

><p>Hermione re-enetered the room at much the same veloicity that she had left it with. She handed Harry and Ron an envelope each with a shaking hand. No one in the kitchen spoke. Harry slit the parchment open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside. He read it through several times, before he became aware of someone standing very close behind him.<p>

"Alright?" Sirius asked awkwardly.

It was alright. He knew he'd fail Divination, and given that he'd collapsed halfway through History, that would have taken a miracle to pass, but, everything else... Exceeded Expectations in Potions! Outstanding in Defence! He related this to Sirius in a low, disbelieving voice that did not carry to the rest of the room. Sirius hesitated, and seemed to fight some sort of internal battle, before finally clapping on hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezing gently.

Sirius led Harry back to his seat and sat down next to him again. Harry realised he was shaking slightly. Hermione and the Weasley's were all talking rather loudly and excitedly about the OWLs, Mrs Weasley especially, ruffling Ron's hair and exclaiming over his seven OWLs, more than the twins' scores put together apparently. Hermione on the other hand, was looking fairly disappointed, and Ginny was consoling her about the offending mark – a mere Exceeds Expectations in Defence. Harry could sympathise. His own 'E' was likewise unwanted. Snape didn't take NEWT students with less than an 'O'. And Harry needed Potions to become an Auror. Upon Sirius' concerned enquiry (he seemed to think Harry should be downright chuffed with his results) Harry explained about the inadequate 'E'.

His godfather tried to smile reassuringly, however. "Cheer up, Harry." He said. "You should be pleased to have an 'E' in your worst subject."

"But...Snape-" Harry began.

"But Snape nothing." Sirius said stubbornly. "Despite what he may think, he is not the be all and end all of Potions education. He can't see beyond the end of his own overly-large nose." Seeing that his hard words had little effect, he thought about what Arthur would say to one of the boys in such a situation. He chose his words carefully, but they still came out rough. "We will talk to Minerva when she is next here. You improved a lot in a little time. They will see you've got potential. We'll force them to take you. Besides," Sirius smirked, "it's just Snivillus. He'll roll over as soon as Dumbledore bats an eyelid." Harry smiled, but he couldn't help feeling that he didn't want to get into the NEWT, and ultimately become an Auror, all because of connections and emotional blackmail. "Don't worry Harry, I'll see you right."

"I was surprised to get an E in my own worst OWL. I spent the exam perfecting a little charm to make Betram Aubry inhale his own snot. He went a really funny shade of purple. And your father was so annoyed at his low Runes mark he covered the professor's house with Runes that he designed himself." The memory made Sirius smile – he looked a bit scary. "There must have been a lot of ambient magic around, because the family's food was animated for a month after that. Kept trying to eat the family. It was brilliant, they had to live off nutrition potions until someone managed to untangle James' work – I don't think he crafted it with any great finesse. Your grandparents made James work in a kitchen for the homeless every holiday for two years after that."

Harry smiled tightly. He didn't think it sounded that hilarious, nearly suffocating a classmate and starving your teacher through menace food just because you hadn't done well on the exam. But he didn't dare say so.

"And then Remus was penalised in Defence for writing some home truths about werewolves. Bureaucracy can never face the truth. We staged a protest outside the education minister's office. We had placards. I was told that our efforts actually had some benefit too..."


	6. Chapter 6

Half Lives – Chapter Seven

The shadows could not pull Sirius back. His body was confined within Number Twelve by Dumbledore's magics. The shadows still pulled and tugged at Sirius to return, though he knew he did not want to. In the day, there was colour and noise and people to keep him here, but at night, when Sirius barely knew he wasn't dreaming and he headed downstairs, the shadows flummoxed at the barrier of the front door, confused by something solid, not of their realm, they took him as close to his home as they could. More than one night a late returning Order member had found Sirius seated in the far corner of the kitchen.

Then the shadows would slip and slide, distorting the familiar shaped of Grimmauld Place until Sirius felt, till he knew, he was in Azkaban again. If a guest came upon Sirius in the kitchen, the shadows would slither across the floor and creep over the traveller, tearing at their face and the memories associated, snapping into place over their features and replacing them with half-torn dreams from Azkaban. Sirius was used to this. Not entirely conscious, but not dreaming, his shadows latched onto every good thing that he came across and took them to a place of unrecognisable familiarity. So used to this was he, that one not so special night, when James Potter stumbled into the kitchen, Sirius didn't even blink.

The first night, Sirius didn't say anything. James talked and talked about the Marauders' Map and how useful it was to him. When James refused Sirius' mute offer to share his drink, he didn't say anything. He just listened to James tell him a lively tale of how he once got on the wrong end of a House Elf, which led walls covered with pudding. So it came as quite a shock to Sirius when he next looked up, to find Harry regarding him with a cautious expression.

"Hello." Sirius said finally.

"Um, hi, Sirius." Harry replied without a smile.

"You're so much like your father, Harry." Sirius watched the shadows flicker in and out of existence along the contours of the boy's face. "He was just here. You just missed him. Pity. You're so similar. You would have gotten on brilliantly. Yet you're so different. I wish you could have met him. But you're dead. You'll never meet Harry till he follows you."

Harry's eyebrows shot north. "Really?" He asked in surprise, "Oh." He looked around the kitchen. "He must have left just as I was walking downstairs then, ey Sirius?"

"I'm convinced your father's still alive sometimes you know Harry." Sirius said conservationally, aware that awkwardness had settled over them. "Sometimes I think I can hear him whistling. Or that I hear his footsteps just around the corner – he had a bit of grit stuck in the sole of his boots, clicked as he walked. Used to annoy the magic out of me. He loved those boots, belonged to Alastor Gumboil, apparently. Famous hit wizard." He added. He looked at his goblet, wondering if it was here when his family was still alive. "I'm not mad, Harry." He said quietly. "I'm just, forgetful. Azkaban, it, it has this way of stopping time. All my memories from the past get mixed up with now. I sometimes wonder if I'm temporally confused with now _then_, or temporally confused with then _now_. Arrested development, Tonks calls it. But I'll get better. And I'll remember who you are all the time, I won't get confused with generations, and we can finally live together. It'll be just like at school, and you'll survive this war, and move in here, and I'll be a proper godfather. A normal one." Sirius looked up, mid impassioned (fevered, _desperate_) speech. "Harry?" The kitchen was empty.

* * *

><p>"You didn't have to do that Harry." Remus said gently.<p>

Harry started; he had one foot on the bottom of the stairs, having just sneaked out of the kitchen away from his godfather's half-conscious ramblings. "I didn't do anything."

Remus looked gaunt and grim, he had been travelling, gathering intelligence, and his brown hair was now streaked liberally with grey, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever. "You sat with Sirius." He said, without question. "It's not your job to fix him, Harry."

Harry tried to meet his former professor's eyes, and, when that failed, he looked at his cheerful Dobby socks. "I know." He said haltingly. "It's just that when I'm there, he talks. Or at least he listens, properly listens, and not just hears. Sure he's not always in the right decade, and he sometimes forgets who I am, but, he's an Azkaban veteran you know. You can't ask any more."

"But that's just it, Harry, he's not an Azkaban veteran, he's still _in_ Azkaban." Remus sounded weary. Harry briefly thought of how terrible it must to condemn your best friend to a life there, pluck him from it in joyful relief, only to find that despite your best efforts nothing had changed. "If not mentally, or consciously, some part of Sirius is, and always will be, tied to that place. It's been too large a part of his life to leave. During the day he's the Sirius we all know and love, albeit slightly damaged, but when he's not consciously trying, such as when he's halfway to sleep, he forgets. He doesn't know any different, Harry."

"He does." Harry said defiantly. "Sometimes, he talks about what Azkaban has done to him, and he says the only way he knows he's not still there is because whether I'm James or Harry, we don't blame him." He chanced a glance up at Remus, who was watching him carefully. "And so what, if we're never who he thinks we are. It's worth it. Isn't it?"

"It must be annoying, being compared to James every waking moment." Remus said suddenly. "You mustn't let Sirius' wanderings convince you that he'd rather have James."

"It's okay." Harry cut across, "He already apologised for calling me James at the Ministry."

"He's wrong to confuse you so much, you know." Remus said warmly. "Yes, you look similar, and you have shared similar mannerisms, but you're so different." Harry squirmed under his scrutiny. "You've led such different lives, different influences; you'd react to the same situation so differently. You don't have the same opinions, or hobbies."  
>"But, Quidditch-" Harry began.<p>

"Yes, but honestly, it's the only sport on offer at Hogwarts, any slightly athletic person _has_ to choose it. You play different positions; you even have a very different flying style, for all your shared prowess." Remus gave Harry a kind smile. "And don't you start about your mother. You're not her copy either, no matter how many people tell you so amazing she was. You have his looks, his flying talent, her determination, and, as you've just demonstrated rather nicely, her ability to see the best in people. But a person is more than just the sum of their parts."

Remus seemed to think he had out stepped the bounds of their rather tenuous relationship, for he halted abruptly and looked a bit awkward. "It's late; you'd best go to bed. I'll see that Sirius doesn't come to any harm."

Harry, for his part, felt too out of his depth to do more than mutter a "thanks" and a "good night", before he scuttled off to his shared room.

But even as Harry ascended the stairs, feeling Remus' all too knowing gaze upon his heels, he decided that his former Professor was wrong. Sirius would rather have James. Maybe not for life, he wasn't a masochist, he knew Sirius would rather James died if that meant Harry lived, but now, right now, whilst Azkaban still clung to Sirius, he needed James.

Harry didn't know Sirius well enough to drag him out of the prison's grasp.

But James did.

* * *

><p>The next morning Harry woke feeling distinctly unrefreshed. He rolled over, and, seeing that Ron's bed was empty and that the sun was shining through the window (as much as it ever did in Grimmauld), he put in a colossal amount of effort and rolled right out of bed.<p>

It was as though his brain had been fully awake and conscious all night, for he had awoken with a plan fully formed in his mind. He had put the lives of his friends in danger, and almost lost Sirius, because he had been quick to anger, impulsive, and hadn't discussed problems any more than was required of him. This was unacceptable. He needed to fix that attitude if he wanted to stop leading his friends to danger and accidentally causing or being present at major catastrophes (a pretty long established habit for him), he needed to think through his feelings and actions before implementing them, and more importantly discuss them with someone trusted and wise (read, Hermione). In fact, he should probably just listen to Hermione more. And finally, he needed to do something about Sirius. Harry had almost lost him once, and hadn't liked it. Now, he was going to use the above resolutions to fix Sirius and hopefully, though his inner teenager shied away in embarrassment at the thought, establish some sort of friendship or relationship with his godfather.

Harry smiled as he thought of this. Summary; he had two plans, the Anti-Catastrope Plan (feel, think, discuss, plan, and above all, listen to Hermione!) and the Get A Godfather Plan (act like James to get to know Sirius better, use James to help Sirius and then use this knowledge to integrate himself into the latter's life). This was good. Normally Harry ran into things without thinking, so having not one, but two plans was good work.

"Remus!" Mrs Weasley cried joyfully. "When did you arrive? Now come on, sit down dear, let me get you some breakfast. You need it more than ever. How long can you stay with us? How many eggs would you like? No, down here dear, that's Harry's seat." Amid the bustling and welcoming, for everyone in the kitchen was exceptionally pleased to see Remus, Harry took his cue and hurriedly sat down. He was surprised to see that Mrs Weasley had allowed, nay, directed, him to sit next to Sirius.

"Late last night, Molly -no, two eggs is plenty thank you- I thought I best just to head up off up to bed without disturbing anyone." Remus replied, dutifully taking his seat. "I'm only here a couple of nights, however."

Mrs Weasley paused and smiled indulgently down upon him. "It is so good to have you back with us, Remus, no matter how long for. To think, it's the weekend, Bill's here, soon Tonks will be dropping by- and we will have a full happy household then won't we?" Remus smiled tersely and picked up his fork. But he never got a chance to use it, because Hermione interrupted him.

"Oh Professor, we got our OWL results yesterday!" She exclaimed. "I know you're not our teacher any more, but well, you're kind of our friend, and we all did so well. Ron got seven in all, and Harry got an '_O'_ in Defence, though I was a bit disappointed in my Defence, I only got an '_E'_ I wasn't sure what went wrong, I mean, I think it must have been the practical, I'm sure my flick was just a little too-" Remus let Hermione's prattle wash over him, occasionally offering her the reassurance and advice he knew she was looking for from her once professor. But he did find time to glance at Harry and mouth an '_Outstanding_?' when Harry nodded, Remus briefly looked immensely proud, before turning back to Hermione and her anxiety.

"You should not be vexing poor Meester Lupin with your childish concerns." A new voice said from the doorway Harry looked up from his eggs to see Fleur teasing Hermione. The latter however, did not seem to appreciate this and was beginning to look indignant. Ginny, Harry noticed, had already progressed beyond this and was almost glaring. "I'm sure you preformed wonderfully. Bill tells me you are ze bookworm of ze group, no? He will 'ere later. 'Ee sleeps like a baby." She laughed and moved to sit down at the table.

"Oh! Before you do dear," Mrs Weasley said a bit too sweetly, "I've got a job for you."

"But, I 'ave yet to eat breakfast." Fleur protested.

"No this really cannot wait." She continued briskly. "There's golem arisen in the attic. We thought that your...allure...might calm it. Be quick about it, it's assimilating the roof sealant."

Fleur stared at her soon to be mother-in-law, who would not meet her eyes. But she decided to be the better witch, and instead stood fluidly. "Very well zen. Come on, 'Arry, zis ees a two person job. And your 'O' speaks for eet's self."

Harry looked at Fleur blankly. It was all he could do to parrot; "But, I haven't eaten..."

* * *

><p>Harry massaged his shoulder where the surprisingly strong quarter-Veela had dragged him up to the attic. Fleur herself was stood next to him, looking in morbid fascination at the stodgy lump of grey matter that was failing its half formed limbs at them vaguely. "Zis 'ouse ees a magnet for ze peculiar." She announced. Harry rather thought that the house <em>made<em> the peculiar.

Just then the semi-sealant-golem accumulated enough energy to launch an attack at the intruders, in the form of small soggy lumps of roof sealant. They were lobbed at the pair, but efficiently deflected by Fleur's shield. "O' do be quiet." She snapped. Losing patience, she actually took Mrs Weasley's advice and set her allure at the offending creature. Golems incorporate their characteristics and substance from their surrounding, be they controlled and chosen by a crafting wizard, or whatever was nearest, as in the case of the spontaneously arisen. Fleur allure pacified the golem, and it fell back as though sitting on its haunches and looked around beatifically. It slowly began to dissimilate back to the ceiling at a wand wave.

"Snap out of eet, 'Arry." Fleur said impatiently. Harry shook his head, feeling as though he had been submerged in water. He had always done fairly well against her allure, maybe it was the constant exposure to her as a fierce adversary during the Tournament, maybe it was sheer dumb luck, but he hadn't been affected like that in some time.

"I apologise," Fleur said graciously, turning to check he was okay, "ze close quarters must 'ave affected you." She looked at him steadily for a second. "And I am grateful zat you treat me like a 'uman being, not fall at my feet like ze men, or narrow your eyes at me like ze women of zis 'ouse." Still feeling a bit unsure of himself Harry merely nodded. "Also for dragging you up 'ere, I am sorry for zat too. But I thought zis would be a good 'iding spot from '_er_. And I could not face ze 'ours alone."

"That's okay." Harry spoke for the first time. He had wondered why Fleur asked for him, if all he was to do was stand here with a fuzzy head. But he thought of Ron and Hermione's uneasy manner around him, Ginny's suspicious looks, Sirius' blank memory and the general annoyance of so many Order members with no answers. "I don't mind getting out of there."

"You are sweet, 'Arry." Fleur smiled. "Now, I zink we both need cheering up, and we 'ave 'ours to ourselves up 'ere. What shall we do?"

Harry's thoughts immediately went places they shouldn't, and he shook his head again. "Sirius stores everything up here. Black heirlooms, old clothes, broken experiments, photos, memories from Hogwarts, demon furniture, confiscated items... There's got to be something worth finding here."

Fleur smiled again. "Well zen." She said. "A treasure 'unt eet ees." She laughed. "I feel like a child again." She leapt over a trunk in a cascade of silvery hair and tinkling laughter to crouch down next to an open box. "Last one to find somezing is un vilain oiseau!"

Harry grinned, and, turning away from Fleur, methodically began looking for information on James Potter.

Suddenly, Fleur screamed. Harry straightened up from the box of letters, stuff several in his pockets, and turned to see Fleur leaning against a growling chest of draws, her hand at her throat. "O', o', eet ees okay." She panted from the shock. Harry picked his way over the debris to see a silver and black snake curling back into its nest from where it had struck at the woman. "Eet surprised me, zat ees all." She laughed nervously. "Eet ees not real." Harry raised his eyebrows, both at her casual assumption of the snake's existence, and at the incomprehensible hissing of the latter. Fleur bent down again to examine the lid of the trunk she had been investigating.

"Fleur, wait-" Harry cried, putting one hand out to stop her. "It could be poisonous."

"Non, look." Fleur fearlessly pushed past the snake and pressed down on the serpent emblem of the trunk lock. The snake writhed and snapped at them, but, like smoke, was drawn back into the lock mechanism. "Eet was just a 'booby trap'. Zere ees something interesting 'ere I think." Having sifted through the sheaves of parchments in the trunk, Fleur suddenly laughed. "'Arry! Look at zis!" Looking down at the photographs held in Fleur's faintly glowing hand, Harry nearly split his sides to see a very grumpy childhood Sirius, whom Harry recognised from the photo album given to him by Hagrid, standing next to an equally foul looking boy of striking similarity, and three extremely triumphant, laughing girls all about their age, two with wild dark curls and one of refined blonde hair, who Harry was startled to recognise as the future Mrs Malfoy. All five of them were wearing the finest women's robes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Half Lives – Chapter Nine**

The next morning Remus fixed Harry with a sharp look as the latter walked down for breakfast, but Harry remained ignorant and dutifully said good morning to everyone. Once he had sat down he looked around the table at a loss. "Mrs Weasley, is there any food left over from breakfast? Someone seems to have cleared it all away."

Mrs Weasley tutted. "Teenagers. I know it's been _eons_ since you last ate, Harry, but breakfast is done, and I'm afraid lunch will be late today. As you can see, we are rather busy."

"What! Oh no, I didn't sleep in did I? Why? What's going on today?" Someone in the corner giggled. He then looked around properly, and noticed that the room was unusually full. There were quite a lot of people there in fact. Quite a lot of people who weren't normally at Number Twelve. It must have been a weekend. Harry always found it hard to keep track of days during the holidays. "What's going on now?"

"An Order meeting, Potter." Alastor Moody grumbled from the corner. "You interrupted."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry stood up bemusedly. "But," he paused half way to the door, "breakfast?"

"It's over, Harry!" Mrs Weasley said in exasperation. "And no amount of hinting is going to get you a second one. Now shoo!"

"But" Harry protested from the doorway which he was being herded to, "I didn't have a first!"

Everyone in the room stopped and looked at him. "What?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"Yes you have, Harry." Mrs Weasley said gently. "You were here not two hours ago." Seeing his scrunched up face as he thought on it, she continued, "I know it may seem longer, but honestly, you are not going to die of starvation. Not with the amount you ate. More than I ever saw from you. Same as Ron!"

"No, I didn't have breakfast, I only just woke up." Harry repeated. "I distinctly remember not having any food. I'm still hungry anyway."

"Harry," Remus spoke now, "You were here two hours ago. You had toast. And eggs. You spoke to me."

"Oh fine. I give up. When was lunch again?" Everyone in the room smiled at the insatiable appetite of a teenage boy. But as Harry was pushed out the room, Mrs Weasley and Remus watched him, and Harry racked his brain trying to remember anything from earlier that morning.

-0-

Just minutes later Ginny Weasley sat down at the kitchen table in Number Twelve. Her mouth was dry, her hands were shaking, her knees were weak; the poor girl had everything. A textbook infatuation. Oh it was marvellous. He had been acting off for a few weeks, but she never suspected _that_ was the reason. She was just starting to lose hope, and resign herself to the Michael Corners and Dean Thomases of the world when bam! He waltzed in and swept her off her feet. Oh it was wonderful, it was-

"Ginny, can't you see we're in the middle of something?" Mrs Weasley looked at her youngest in exasperation. Really, Harry had only just left and before his seat had cooled, another teenager went and sat in it!

"Oh mum, I'm so happy!" Ginny sighed. That immediately got Mrs Weasley suspicious. Her daughter never 'sighed'. "I had no idea Harry even _looked_ at me that way, but he just-"

"Ginny, dear, we have company."

The girl looked around, as though noticing the Order meeting for the first time. Several people looked rather amused. Sirius looked down right wolfish. And Tonks even had her bright hair back. "Oh. So we do." She paused. "Should I leave?"

"Yes, do." Her mother said between tight teeth. She was uncomfortably aware that everyone was watching. Why was it always up to her to get rid of the children?

As Ginny stood up to leave, Moody could be heard to grumble "How do they keep getting through the repelling charms, anyway?"

-0-

Ginny wandered through the house, feeling vaguely drunk. She couldn't find Harry anywhere, which was slightly disappointing, but she reminded herself of Teen Witch's advice not to be too clingy, and instead found herself looking for Hermione to confide in. She did find her, eventually, where Harry was supposed to be, in his and Ron's bedroom. Ron was with her too, they were both pouring over thick heavy books in their laps, and both looked up sharply when Ginny walked in. Ron shoved his book under the pillow and Hermione closed hers with a snap and hugged it to her chest, hiding the title. "Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I just had to tell you." She said, sliding to sit on Harry's bed. _Harry's_ _bed_. Her ears went pink in a way she hadn't let them in several years. "And thank you, Hermione, thank you, you are undoubtedly the most marvellous, clever, brilliant friend a witch could ask for."

"Oh!" Hermione flushed, acutely aware that Ron was hearing this. "Well-"

"I followed your advice you see. I stopped writing him valentines, I stopped blushing, giggling, following him around – and it worked, Hermione! Oh it's worked!"

"Ginny, I-" Hermione looked sideways at Ron. Was this really the right time?

"And I talked to him, and I joked with him, and I dated his classmates, and I ignored him, and he ignored me, but now he isn't and it's _wonderful_!" Ginny all but gushed.

If nothing had struck Ron as odd about the interruption until now, that would have set some alarm spells ringing. Ginny never '_gushed'_.

"Ginny, I am happy for you." Hermione left her book on Ron's bed and hopped over to sit next to Ginny, secretive research forgotten. "What happened? Has anything really happened? Are you sure you're not reading too much into this?"

"Oh yes, Hermione, not even I could mistake this!"

Ron had the uncomfortable feeling that they were about to start squealing. But Harry's bed sat between him and the door. Maybe he could sneak past, very quietly...

"What happened?"

"I wasn't doing anything, just in the front room making a card house, I hadn't even realised Harry was in the room. But then he bet me he could make a bigger house before the explosion. Scared me half to death!" Ginny laughed. "And he looked, different. I don't know, alive, somehow. More, boyish. Confident, reckless, you know? Hermione, do boys always look like that when they're flirting?"

Ron, who had made it halfway off his bed, promptly fell over. _Flirting_? Harry? Ginny?

"Um, I, I couldn't say, Ginny." Hermione said in embarrassment. She was sure she'd never seen Harry look like that, however.

"And he sat really close to me; our legs were touching – our _legs_ Hermione! And he started complimenting me on my card house, and he called me his flower, and kept saying all this stuff about how I was just so good at everything – except he was better on a broom obviously – and then started talking about Hogsmeade. Hermione, has he been trying to ask me out for ages? Because he seemed to think he had. Said he'd try asking me to Hogsmeade again, even if I had shot him down the past million times. And I honestly don't know what he was on about, because he just kept saying how beautiful I was, and calling me 'flower', and being so charming, and cocky! It was funny! And then," Ginny's voice dropped and she started blushing in full force. "And then he tucked my hair behind my ear, and said it shouldn't obscure my beautiful eyes, and oh, Hermione! I think he was about to kiss me!"

Ginny sat back sullenly. "And then Dung walked in, and Harry practically ran from the room."

"What?" Hermione repeated, in an entirely different tone of voice. "He just left?"

"Yeah, I think Dung must have scared him off, you know?" Ginny toyed with the quilt mindlessly. "Anyway, Dung just wanted to know which room the Order meeting was held in – oh! I just walked in the middle of it, didn't I?"

"I don't know, did you?"

"Yeah, so I took Dung to the kitchen, and went looking for Harry. But I couldn't find him anywhere, so, I came here." Ginny finished with a shrug, but her eyes were shining.

Ron, who by this time had gotten to the door way was feeling very pleased with himself, and as such felt brave enough to say (slightly unkindly, because he was feeling entirely wrong footed by the chain of events) "You know Fleur's name means 'flower', right?" He ducked as Ginny threw the pillow at him. Wisely, his next move was to run out the door. "Come on, we'd best go look for Harry!" He called from a safe distance up the corridor. "Who knows what mess he's gotten into!" Or, who knows what Hermione and Ginny would do to him now that he's gotten himself into _this_ mess, and how could he sufficiently distract them? "I'll go mobilise the adults. Downstairs." Then he added under his breath "Away from gossipy _girls_."

-0-

So it was that five minutes later, half the Order meeting had been corralled into searching the house for Harry (the half who could be bothered) and Moody was left still grumbling about his failed teenager repelling charms, and Mrs Weasley was left still wondering why it was always her sorting the children, and Remus was left wondering what on earth he was doing pairing up with Tonks to search.

"There you are!" Sirius opened the door to his own room some minutes later to see his godson staring at the pictures that adorned his walls. "Everyone is looking for you. We even split up the meeting. What are you doing? Hey. What are you doing? Hello? Harry? Harry?"

As if suddenly coming back to himself at the sound of his name, Harry started slightly and turned round in surprise. "Sirius. I didn't hear you."

"Evidently." Sirius smiled. "What are you doing up here anyway, last place we'd expect to find you."

"Where-" Harry looked around, as though seeing the room for the first time. "Oh, your bed room. Um." He shrugged. "I dunno, nothing."

"Those photos, they're from your grandparents' house." Sirius gestured haltingly to the frames Harry had been looking at when he walked in.

"Really?" He looked at them with renewed focus and interest.

"Yes. They were-"

"Harry?" "Harry!" "Harry!" The voices of the other searchers floated up to them for the first time. Sirius stopped abruptly. They both listened to the people moving about. Sirius didn't seem to know how to go on with his anecdote now he'd stopped.

"We had best tell them we found you." Sirius said finally. "Come on." He gently ushered Harry through the door and down the stairs. "I'm sure Ginny's going frantic."

* * *

><p>As Harry sat watching his godfather one night in the kitchen, he realised that, had the man been completely sane and saw the sun every now and then, he would have been cool. With an antique looking coat with huge fur collar, wrists covered in makeshift bracelets of greying material strips, multiple rings, obscure tattoos, genuine biker boots and a genuine motorbike to go with it, the man looked like an aging rock star. Harry, who, despite celebrity status, had never been cool, thought that having a cool godfather was cool in itself.<p>

"You know, James," Sirius said suddenly after half an hour of silence. "Harry looks an awful lot like you. Nicer though."

Harry smiled wanly and decided it was time to begin plan Get A Godfather. He began to recite everything he had learnt over the past few weeks about James Potter in his head. His mannerisms, his opinions, his anecdotes. He remembered, experienced and absorbed. And then he began to play at grownups.

"I am not so sure Pads, I mean I am pretty much perfect. As pleasant as you think my son is, I am a martyred hero after all. No one could beat that. Poor souls, destined to always be just that bit less spectacular than I, no matter how hard they try." James paused and scratched his chin where a bit of stubble should have been. "Unless he finally beat Mad-Eye..."

* * *

><p>Harry woke the next morning and wondered if James had joined Sirius with the whisky during the previous night. His head hurt and his glasses no longer seemed to work.<p>

For Harry, the weekend had been spent with Fleur practically glued to his side, and he suspected today was not going to be any different. It seemed to be a matter of great interest to everyone in Grimmauld. But Fleur just ignored the jibes about Harry's virtue and '_witches_ _who think Grimmauld is beneath_ _one'_ and made excuse after excuse to disappear off to some obscure corner with him for several hours. When, after hours of supposed ash winder hunts and aborted attempts at learning French, an exhausted Harry gave in and asked Fleur what she was doing, the abashed witch confessed she felt persecuted and alone in Grimmauld, having only come upon her fiancé's pleading, and Harry was the sole person she felt she could talk to without been drooled or sneered over. Harry felt he could empathise, even if it was all he could do to not be part of the drooling masses. And so from then on the pair began to '_clear out the dangerous such-and-such from the such-and-such room'_, hiding from people wanting to discuss either engagements or Veils, and laughing over Harry's appalling attempts at French.

Their happy self exclusion from the house was frequently interrupted the following week, however, by Harry's sleepless nights becoming James Potter for a semi-aware Sirius, by Fleur's part-time work at Gringotts and by stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even deaths appearing near daily in the newspaper. Sometimes the news was even brought home by a passing Order agent before it reached the papers. For example, Remus arrived after another week long absence on Harry's birthday to tell them that Dementor attacks had increased country-wide, that Igor Karkaroff had been found dead under the Dark Mark, and that both Ollivander and Florean Fortescue had been removed from Diagon Alley. The werewolf had taken one look at Harry and had chastised him for sitting up with Sirius instead of getting rest. Apparently the boy looked as tired as he felt. When Harry protested, Remus just waited. Harry caved and promised not to do so again.

-0-

"I don't get it." Harry grumbled later as he, Ron and Hermione were flicking through some old books deemed safe from the Black's collection. "I haven't even been down to see Sirius all week!" He glared at the book at it tried to give him a paper cut. "But he's convinced I'm lying. Do you think the lyncathrope virus gave him extra worrywart-ness as well?"

"Don't be silly, Harry." Hermione said automatically, not really paying attention.

"Nah, you've been sleep walking again mate." Ron informed him. "Though a worry-virus would explain it."

Harry looked up sharply. "I don't sleep walk."

"Course you do." Ron didn't seem to get how big news this was to his friend. "Ever since first year. Maybe even before that, I dunno. Why do you think we started locking the dorm door?"

"I thought it was to keep the twins out after that shoe exploded..."

"We had to stop you searching for the Mirror somehow."

"Don't worry," Hermione said, glancing up from her book, "we got Dumbledore's permission."

"'Cause that's what Harry's really worried about. Permission." Ron said. "Reckon we stopped you going loco. Dumbledore said it'd drive you mad. Ought to thank us."

"But, I sleep walk?"

"Yes you sleep walk, now do be quiet, and listen to this." Hermione shifted in her seat. "'_The Veil was first documented to be used for sacrificial rituals by the Druids, and later for executions of those the muggles suspected of witch-craft (See Chapter three, '_Hypocritical Happenings_), though its origins and true purpose are still unclear. Likewise the actual method of its action has eluded comprehension despite rumoured investigation by the Department of Mysteries (See Chapter thirteen '_Rumours One Should Not Think About, Let Alone Talk Of_). It is this author's opinion that some vital life force is removed from the individual who passes through, for inanimate objects pass _through_ unharmed and the living are _retained_ and become unto death. Therefore it can be supposed that anything that passes _throughand out_ is of the Veil, or never of life. And it follows that if an object is never of life, it is, by process of elimination, of Death._' Harry...?" Hermione looked up, and her friend's seat was empty and the door ajar. "Oh dear."

* * *

><p>Remus paused on the landing. A very irate looking teenager had just slipped out of his bedroom. The boy ruffled his hair and mumbled something about 'my father' (Remus wondered if Harry knew just how much he looked like James, and sounded like the young Malfoy right then) and started off down the corridor. Remus dithered, unsure of his reception, but it seemed as if Harry sensed this, because half way down the corridor he hesitated mid step and cocked his head as though listening. Without knowing why Remus stilled and muffled his breathing. Then, as suddenly as awakened with a spell, Harry started off again with a new purpose.<p>

"Harry!" Remus recollected himself and hurried after the teen. "Harry!" The boy didn't reply until Remus caught up with him below the upper staircase and caught his shoulder.

"My name is James, remember?" Harry said as he was halted. "I do not think anyone around here knows a Harry."

Remus sighed. "Look, I know it seems like that sometimes, what with You-Know-Who, and the Order, and Sirius doesn't help; but we do. I'm telling you the truth. And I didn't mean to snap before. I'm here to apologise, I know you're feeling the weight of everything just now, and you don't need a geriatric old professor telling you off every day." Remus smiled tiredly.

Harry gave him an odd look. "Yeah. Right. Well you are not quite a silver-wolf yet, old friend. Though I think you will always be a professor, age or no."

That pulled a more heartfelt smile from Remus. "And about Sirius, you don't have to – yes, I know, I'm not carping- I just wanted to say, you don't have to, he'll only make everything worse for you, but I know you feel you ought. So, just try to get some rest too. You need to look after yourself."

"Sirius never makes things worse." Harry said fiercely. "He just happens to get caught in bad situations. And if I am not there for him who will be? You two have not exactly been brilliant these past few years have you?" Remus looked shocked for a moment, and then started to tell him off like the child he was behaving as, but Harry got there first. "Sorry. Sorry, Moony. Maybe I do need more sleep. But it is hard with You-Know-Who, crying babies and nosy red heads you know?" Harry grinned ruefully. "Look, I am on my way to talk to Sirius now, see if I can talk him round. Will you come? He would like to see you."

Harry began to climb the steps to the second floor where Sirius resided, and for a moment Remus stood, dumbfounded, watching him. "Moony..." He said silently, and then grinned, looking almost as young as his namesake. "He called me Moony." Remus shook his head and bounded up after his best friend's son.

"'Arry? 'Ave you finished your conjugations? Where are you going?" hurrying up the stairs from the ground floor came Fleur, determinedly not looking behind her, where Remus could hear female muttering. "I will come with you."

Harry paused once more and ruffled his hair. "What? Oh, yes, Fleur. Hello."

She laughed prettily and tossed her hair. It made Remus want to sneeze. "Now 'Arry. Don't you start zis Veela nonsense like ze rest of ze 'ouse. Never mind ze 'ousework, I do not want to dirty my robes today, let us go practice your verbs."

"Wait!" Remus put out one hand to stop them as Fleur led Harry back down to the first floor and the small library in Sirius' father's study. "I thought you were going to talk to Sirius..."

"Was I?" Harry looked bemused. "But he only talks properly at night, Professor. And I'm not allowed to see him then, am I?" Harry turned and followed Fleur. "Maybe he'll talk to you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Half Lives – Chapter Eleven**

Harry had been looking for his godfather; he had just had a rather troublesome encounter with Ginny, who had apparently suddenly revived her crush from all those years ago. She had cornered Harry in Buckbeak's room, and, after greeting the hippogriff, had rather persistently tried to flirt with him. When Harry had backed off, she had become quite irate.

"Oh make your mind up Harry!" She snapped finally. "Yesterday you were promising to buy me flowers, last Monday you ran away from me, the week before that you spent the whole day thinking up pet names- I am not a toy!" Harry had slowly begun creeping towards the door. "If you think you've made a mistake, and you don't want to date me, then be a wizard and tell me! I'm not going to break and curse your internal organs to die a little with every heart beat before finally giving up and withering away leaving you an empty wretched shell-" Hearing her extensive knowledge of that curse, Harry begged to differ, "but if you're going to be flicking about from one cauldron to the next, well-" She stepped up to him, with her wand inches from his face and a blazing look upon her own, "do not mess me around, Harry. I deserve more than that."

With that Ginny had stared at him inscrutably for a few seconds, before throwing her hands in the air and storming off to rant to Hermione about boys in general, and dark haired, green eyed ones in particular.

Harry felt slightly nervous when he even remembered the dangerous look in her eyes. His knees had gone weak and the bottom fell out of his stomach even thinking about it. He paused, thinking about it, maybe fear wasn't the cause of his nervousness, but more than ever Harry decided that if he was going down _that_ path, he would have to hang back and think about things before doing anything. After all, he didn't remember any of the events Ginny had described, and, more importantly, Ginny was scary. He smiled grimly, it was possibly the first time he had advocated thinking before acting. His Anti-Catastrophe plan was going well.

That, and his recent revelations, made Harry more determined than ever to find his godfather. He wasn't sure how one began a family-bond, but he was sure talking and girls were part of it. He grimaced slightly, when he considered actually talking to Sirius about such things, but whilst becoming James was helping Sirius, it wasn't helping Harry's relationship with him. Besides, he was a Gryffindor, embarrassing conversations or none. He could do this. He would _have_ to do this, if he wanted Sirius to be godfather in more than name only.

-0-

"_Sirius_!" Remus' exasperated voice cut through Harry's rather grim thoughts. The boy smiled. How helpful of his old professor, locating his errant godfather for him. Harry followed the sounds of the voice down the stairs to the drawing room. But when he got there he hung back behind the door out of sight, but not out of ear shot. Remus and appeared to be having the sort of conversation that was not meant to be overheard. Naturally, Harry started rooting in his pockets for an Extendable Ear.

"But honestly Sirius," Remus exclaimed, giving up on persuading his friend to get up and do something, "all you've done for the past three days is lie on that sofa and stare into space. You barely eat, you don't talk, and I know you don't sleep. Have you even _washed_?"

Sirius mumbled something into the cushion and continued doing what he was doing. Which was lying down on the sofa, staring despondently at the damp wall opposite.

"I thought as much." Remus replied. "And yes, I know you're hideously depressed, and struggling to recover from your incarceration," his tone of voice suggested they had discussed this frequently, and it was such an old argument that sympathy had stopped existing. "But, couldn't you just try? Pretend, even just for a little while?"

Sirius mumbled something else and continued staring past Remus.

"Why?" Remus echoed. "Because of Harry, that's why." He stood up sharply.

"I tried, alright Remus." Sirius spoke audibly for the first time. "But it was easier when he wasn't here for such long periods. I can't keep it up this long. It's just-" he broke off with a sigh. "It just seems so, useless." He finished helplessly.

That softened Remus again, and he smiled a strange, sad, half smile down at his friend. "But can't you see how it's affecting him? I haven't spoke to him about it, but anyone can see he's starting to doubt his place here. He doesn't know if you really want him here, Sirius. And," he continued on over protests, "in case you have forgotten, he is an orphan. An _orphan_, Sirius. All he wants is for someone to take him in and be his own family, not a second hand Weasley family, but _his_." Harry started back in surprise. He hadn't known that it could be expressed so, succinctly, without sounding ungrateful. He immediately felt guilty, and hoped no one else had noticed.

"I know he's an orphan, Remus!" Sirius shouted suddenly, making both Remus and Harry flinch. "You think I'm going to forget that? James! Lily! I saw them dead, Remus! And Harry, he-" He stopped suddenly. His eyes slid off Remus, and went back to staring unseeingly at the damp wall.

"So what are you going to do about it, hey, Sirius? Just lie here and look like you're planning to kill yourself?" Remus sighed, and passed a hand over his face. He looked tired. "You're not, are you, Sirius?" He asked, suddenly sounding vulnerable. "Because if Harry-"

"No." Sirius cut him off flatly. "Don't be stupid Remus."

"Then what? What are you planning? What could be more important...?" he trailed off at the sudden look of devious malice that had sprung onto Sirius' face.

"I'm planning to burn this house down." He said quietly. "The wound will only fester if you don't clean it."

Remus gave him a stony look. "I don't know what you think you're doing, old friend, but that boy out there is dying for just one word from you. You'd better stop this, right now, and do something about it."

"What are you on about? I speak to Harry all the time."

"About his father. Face it, Sirius, all you do is compare them. You look at Harry and you see someone who will never quite be James. He never will be quite enough, will he?"

"Harry _is_ enough." Sirius said quietly, with a mulish expression.

"Then you'd better start acting like it." Remus replied highly. "The way he hangs off your every word, deliberately gets himself in trouble with Molly so she'll forget to tell you off, the way he looks at you-"

"What, like I'm a no good, broken wizard, who can't even get up in the mornings?"

"No." Remus replied softly. "Like you hung the moon. Though," he added briskly, "I have no idea why, the way you've been treating him..."

Harry thought he'd heard quite enough. He withdrew from the door and crept back to his room to think.

* * *

><p>The next day saw Harry and Hermione deep in serious discussion at every opportunity. Every so often they would glance up at Sirius or Remus, which was starting to give the two older men the creeps. In the end, Harry won whatever debate they'd been having, and they remained tight lipped on the matter for the next four days, the only clue the rest of the house got was a harassed Hermione whispering "I still think we ought to have asked Remus, or maybe Dumbledore-" before Harry had shut her up with a look. Then, at the end of the four days, Bill and Fleur came back for the weekend, making Mrs Weasley go into overdrive with the offhand comments and not so subtle entreaties to her eldest, which gave Harry ample opportunity to corner Fleur as she skulked around the house in a strop.<p>

And that is why, a week later, Harry and Hermione could be found in the boys' room at any time of day, poring over thick muggle books, all with a '_Library of Central London'_ sticker on the side, and a check out slip for one F. Delacour in the sleeve. Ron had been greatly interested in these books, never having seen a printed hard back with accompanying CD and actual paper (instead of the handwritten, ancient leather-bound parchment wizarding books), right up until he had been roped into reading, and had discovered that the world of muggle psychology and mental health therapy was incredibly complex and boring. He soon left them to it. And, when asked by various curious house members what the other two were up to, he would just shrug, roll his eyes, and say something about broken muggles. The house soon learned to leave them alone.

* * *

><p>"Harry, I was thinking- what are you doing? Put that down <em>right<em> now!" Hermione had stopped almost as soon as she'd barged into Harry's room, and stared at his hands. "Is that a blister pack? Harry, are you _self medicating_?"

Harry hadn't known it was possible to sound both incredulous and serious at the same time. "It's fine, Hermione," he said tiredly "it's just a headache."

She gave him a scrutinising look. "Are you sure? Well why didn't you just tell Mrs Weasley, I'm sure-"

"Honestly, it's fine." He repeated. "I just didn't want any more potions. And I've gotten by on muggle medication for the first eleven years of my life; it's not going to hurt me, and I'm not going to accidentally kill myself."

"Given your expertise at potions, maybe it's a wise decision." She conceded. "Where did you get them from anyway?"

"I asked Fleur to get them for me. Don't worry," Harry added, "I paid and thanked her."

"I'm not sure about you and Fleur, Harry." Hermione said warningly, walking over and taking a seat next to him.

"Oh not you too." He groaned.

"No, no, nothing like that. I agree with you entirely when I say Ron and Ginny are being stupid for inferring anything between the pair of you. I mean, for one thing, she's part Veela. And she's got Bill, tall, cool, older Bill, and then there's you, and I know you're a '_celebrity'_ and all, but you're short, got really dorky glasses, your knees are possibly _the_ knobbliest thing I've ever seen and-"

"Really making me feel good about myself here, Hermione."

"Sorry. Anyway- Ron and Ginny are being stupid and childish. But you've got to agree, given the levels of tension between you and the Order, and the animosity between Fleur and the entire household, it's not the best idea to skulk away together and hide for hours on end."

"Je ne me cache pas!" Harry cried with a grin.

"Well," Hermione smiled, "at least you're getting something out of this hiding. Although I think your grammar was off, and you really do have a terrible accent."

"Hermione," Harry said, well acquainted with is friend's ability to get off topic, "what did you come here to tell me?"

"Oh, yes. Well, I was thinking, about the psychology research we were doing, well if Sirius really does have depression-"

* * *

><p>But what Hermione was going to say to him about Sirius, Harry would never know, because the next thing he knew he was standing in the hallways outside Mr and Mrs Weasley's bedroom and the sun had set. Harry looked around in confusion before cursing the Black house. Only last week it had spontaneously moved him from the drawing room to the bathroom, thoughtfully erasing the period in between. It was then he noticed two things, one, his hand was raised to knock at the door (what had been going to ask again?), and two, Mrs Weasley appeared to be having a very tearful argument with her husband. Harry quickly lowered his hand, feeling almost guilty. It seemed all he did these days was become James, research depression and Veils, and snoop on private conversations. Not many conversations were happy these days.<p>

Harry hung around briefly to listen to the private argument (Harry also tried to blame this on James, but James just pointed out that Harry was the one with legs at that moment, and he wasn't making any move to leave), which seemed to centre on "_Oh why did Bill choose such a silly supercilious girl?_" and "_Fleur is making a fool of poor Harry just to spite us_" and even lightly touched on "_Fleur is making poor Tonks even more upset, she can't even morph_" but as Harry couldn't remember what he had wanted to ask them (he had a strange feeling it was to do with Mrs Weasley's brothers, but, Harry had never known them, had he? How had he known that they liked their Firewhiskey flaming?), and he had begun to feel quiet uncomfortable listening to Mrs Weasley say nasty things about Fleur (and mortifying things about Harry himself) and hearing Mr Weasley try and comfort his distraught, angry wife. So Harry closed his eyes and thought about everything James Potter. If he didn't want to be Harry right now, then he wouldn't be. There was always James.

* * *

><p>Harry doesn't know when he comes back to himself; the house must have moved him again... Ginny's trying to kiss him. She's got her hand on his shoulder and her face is millimetres away. They were standing in the kitchen. Had he been sleeping standing up? Has he be been sleeping at all? What had happened to James? He felt a brief moment of freezing panic which does nothing for his headache. Then the door bursts open. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he is three meters away on the other side of the room. Ginny was still in the same place, hands on her hips, yelling at her brother, who stood in the open doorway. "No Ron! I don't care! You're so wrapped up keeping things the same! You won't kiss Hermione so she stays your awkward non-friend and you won't talk to Harry so he stays your fragile-friend! Well I love change Ron, and nothing you say will stop me!"<p>

Harry vaguely thinks that he wasn't fragile, but he couldn't tell his mouth to say it out loud, and before he knows what was happening he was back in the centre of the room with Ginny's hand in his.

This time Ron pulls them apart. The siblings are yelling again. Harry wondered what was wrong with his head. The room is swaying around him.

"You're such a little girl Ginny! You act all big and brazen but you're just a girl who still scared that someone's going to take over. And you have to feel in control don't you?" Ron said nastily.

"No! No stop saying that!"

"So you push through things, and you make things happen and you manipulate people just so you know you're in control of what's happening! But you don't really want any of this do you? It's just the only thing you know you can force to happen. And you're scared."

"Yeah?" Ginny steps forward. She had her face in Ron's now. But she's not trying to kiss him. Harry thinks he that his thoughts are in the wrong tense. Was? Is? Will be? But his limbs don't seem to be working. "Well at least I admit it! You're scared of people leaving you, so you stop them moving on. You're stopping Hermione from doing anything other than work. You stop Harry doing anything other than brooding. You're deliberately picking fights with me so Mum and Dad have to step in and remain parents to little kids! You're suffocating us Ron! Can't you see that? We're suffocating because you're scared that if people move on they'll leave you behind!"

Harry's not so sure he wanted to kiss Ginny in the first place. But his hand was in hers, wasn't it? There's a great pressure building up behind his eyes. So he edged round the arguing pair, who were so engrossed they didn't notice. He slips out the room and walked away.

-0-

Someone came storming down the corridor past him. "Tonks!" Harry cried in surprise. "What are you doing here? It's Friday." Working Order members usually didn't turn up till Saturday lunch at the earliest.

The irate Auror, still in her outer robes, spun on her heel and raised one shaking finger at him. "I don't care if he spent years under psychological and emotional torture in prison. I don't care if he can't get passed that. And I don't care if he's trapped here. But your godfather, Harry, you're godfather-" She broke off, her voice trembling with anger. He didn't think it wise to point out he wasn't called Harry; he might just get a spider forced down his throat. And everyone knows what happens to people who eat spiders. They eat everything, and then they die. James rather wanted to live. Tonks took a deep steadying breath. "Sirius does not need to say such calculatingly hurtful things to people. If need wants entertainment and emotions, he can get them elsewhere. They say you're the only one who talks to him. Well, maybe you can talk some sense into him." She stood back and straightened her robes self consciously. "And, in answer to your question, I only popped over to see if Remus needed- doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm leaving. Have a good day, Harry." She was about to leave, but paused to call back angrily; "And it's Saturday!" So saying she turned on her heel and apparated from sight. Her dramatic exit was only slightly marred by tripping over her robe.

Harry felt that the day had been very confusing, and quite stressful, and that perhaps it was all just a bit too much for him, so he got one of his books from the library, and went to hide in his room until dinner.


	9. Chapter 9

**Half Lives – Chapter Thirteen**

"No, no please don't ask me that Sirius." Remus shook his head and avoided his friend's eyes. Harry suddenly had the feeling he should have stayed in bed that night and not gone wandering when good boys and girls should be in bed. He partially closed the door and remained out of sight, feeling only absently at fault about spying on his godfather and mentor. Again. Where had this spying habit come from?

"Why shouldn't I? Is it too much for you? The guilt? Well, did you think me guilty, Remus, did you?" Sirius had backed Remus against the kitchen counter and was gesturing wildly with his hands, a juxtaposition to the quiet, furious restraint of their voices.

"You know full well what I thought Sirius!" Remus snapped. "We've done this! Let it go."

"Let it go! Let it go he says!" Sirius got that frantic look in his eyes again, which reminded Harry painfully of their first meeting. He could see no empty bottles in the kitchen, but Harry didn't think Sirius needed the alcohol to unbalance. "Well sorry, _old friend_, but it's not something one can just 'let go' of! You suspected me just as I suspected you. And it was all too easy to know me as the traitorous, guilty dog that I was." All the air seemed to go out of Sirius suddenly, and he staggered back and sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

"Listen to me Remus." He said tiredly. "I'm arguing like we were teenagers again and we could both get up and shake the words off our backs."

"It doesn't matter that you can't, Sirius. It doesn't matter." Remus stood up straight.

"Yes it does." Sirius pursed his lips and glared at his feet ruefully for a moment. "It does, to James and Harry it does." He sighed. "Tonks says I have an emotional impairment. Arrested development. She gave me this long spiel about it. Long periods of dejection. Physical illness in response to personal conflict. Unable to build relationships. Or progress them, I guess, since I still seem to think everyone is fifteen years younger."

Remus was well used to his friend's sudden monologues, and as such remained silent for some time after, just to check he wasn't going to continue. "Nymphadora likes watching people. She likes their characters. I think she finds it amusing that we can change what's inside our heads and our hearts, but we can't do the same to our exterior. She says it feels like exactly the same process to her. She can't understand how we can do one but not the other."

"Metamorphaging is just another sense to her isn't it?" Sirius asked, slyly watching his friend's expression.

"She can't imagine what it's like to be without." Remus agreed.

"Strange then, that she hasn't changed once these past three weeks then." Remus didn't reply. "What was it, 'too young, too pretty, too good'?"

Remus sat down next to Sirius without looking at him. "Too young, too full of promise, too _clean_. She doesn't need me Sirius. No matter what you think."

"Oh I wouldn't say it was what _I_ thought that was important."

"She's naive; she'll change what she thinks within a year."

"Don't keep yourself from something good just because you're too stuck in the past to see it, old friend." Sirius cautioned.

Remus stood suddenly and glared down at him. "Stop with your barbed comments, Sirius. I have my reasons so stop prying where you aren't wanted. And for once in your life follow your own advice, see what's in front of _you_, see where you _are_ wanted, and talk to Harry."

With that Remus left, swiftly exiting the room in what _might_ have been called a tantrum.

-0-

Harry removed his hand from his mouth, where he had clasped it to smother his breathing, and stepped out from behind the open door as he heard Remus' bedroom door close one floor up. He couldn't believe his old professor had walked not a foot away from him, and not noticed him entirely, all because he was hiding _behind a_ _door_ of all things. He breathed heavily for a few moments and then spent some serious minutes thinking, right there in the hallway. He came up with one conclusion. He was right. Sirius needed someone from his past, from the happy memories to keep him anchored in the real world, but Remus would only argue with him. Deliberately ruffling up his hair, Harry composed himself briefly, bringing to the front of his mind what he had come to call his '_James persona'_ (who, incidentally, had spent the last two days whinging at the back of his head for being ignored), and stepped through the kitchen door.

"Alright Pads? What had Moony's wand in such a knot? Such an old woman, he is. As crotchety as Agrippa. Anyway, listen, I came up with these new drawings. I was thinking, if we extend the spell a bit this way, and increase the duration of the third syllable, we could get an extra three feet of coverage! What do you think? Am I not amazing?"

* * *

><p>Harry sat bolt upright in his seat. He was in the kitchen. How had he gotten here? He had been in the bathroom, he'd just left the shower...then his hair looked flat so he'd artistically arranged it for that 'Just Jumped Off a Broom' look (he knew Evans liked it really)...then he'd been about to go wake Ron when-<p>

And he was in the kitchen. Everyone was there. Remus, Sirius, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Molly and Arthur (who really should have been at work by now). It was a Monday so there were no Order members and Bill and Fleur had gone back to their flat (they only visited weekends). And he was in the kitchen.

"Guys..." Harry started uncertainly. "What just happened?"

"Alight mate," Ron huffed, "I know I'm not the most astute guy, but even I can tell when I say something out of order. Just because I apologised-"

"No, I-" Harry looked around; no one else seemed confused. The adults were quietly talking about how Pro-Dumbledore Wizengamot members had begun losing favour and suddenly deciding to take long holidays. "I- is this breakfast?" He asked in confusion.

"No, Harry, its dinner time." Hermione said slowly. She and Ron exchanged a look.

"But," Harry looked at the knife and fork in his hand. His plate was half eaten. He could even taste the casserole in his mouth. "I don't remember...I-"

"Mu-um," Ron called loudly, not taking his eyes off his friend, "something's wrong with Harry."

* * *

><p>"Shh...shh...calm down Harry, it'll be fine-"<p>

"There, just sit back now, there's a good lad-"

"Harry? Mate? What's going-?"

"Can someone tell me what's wrong with-!"

"Fetch-"

* * *

><p>When Harry woke the clamour of voices had disappeared. He was staring at a yellowed ceiling. Soon he was staring at a lot of freckles and brown hair.<p>

"Urgh! Ron! Hermione! Get out of my face!" Harry lifted a groggy hand and swatted at his two friends. When he had room to sit up, he did so. He was lying in his own bed, morning sunlight was streaming through the window, and his friends were watching him anxiously. He sighed. He hated that. "What happened?" He asked, more resigned than anything.

"We don't know mate." Ron answered first. "You just stopped eating all of a sudden and went rigid. You got this weird look on your face..."

"Then you started asking us where you were, and what had happened," Hermione picked up, "you were completely disorientated. Then you started panicking, and insisting that your name wasn't Harry, and Mrs Weasley kept trying to talk you out of it, but Sirius wasn't helping, and then _Ginny_ started panicking, then Mr Weasley started yelling unhelpful advice about CPR, and you were just getting worse and hyperventilating, and you went white as a sheet-"

"-Then Professor Lupin ordered everyone to calm down, and they forced a Weight-Off-the-Shoulders potion down your throat, and you kind of calmed down, but you were all spaced out and just as confused, so they took you up here."

"Mrs Weasley and Remus got you settled in bed. Then Ron and I stayed here talking to you till you calmed down enough to sleep. You've been out all night." Hermione finished quietly. "Sirius sat up all night with you." She added.

That was, in Harry's opinion, the only nice piece of news about it all. He could remember suddenly being somewhere completely different, and then his head had started to hurt- really hurt – and everything had become horribly distorted, and everyone was speaking really slowly, his vision had started fading, and all he could think about was falling through the Veil and _why couldn't he move his feet_?

"Harry? Harry! Harry!"

Harry started back to find Hermione and Ron in his face again, waving their hands and patting his cheek. "Hello. Hello, I'm here." He said, instantly knowing what they were worrying about. "It's fine. I just, flash back, that's all." He looked down and plucked at the slightly moth eaten blue blanket spread over his knees. "Does anyone know what caused it?"

"We were hoping you could tell us mate." Ron replied. "Hermione thinks it was a panic attack, whatever that is."

"Magic-folk." Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you are so behind in the field of psychology and, in fact, science in general. Do you know," she said, rounding on Harry, "that their idea of mental health treatment is cheering charms and obliviation?"

Harry blanched. "That does sound rather, brutal." He admitted.

"Well if you can't remember the problem, what's to worry about?" Ron asked obliviously.

Harry had the sudden horrible feeling that he was about to do something which didn't have his full approval. "The reason I panicked," His mouth began abruptly, "was because one moment I'd just gotten out of the shower, next thing I know I'm eating dinner."

Ron and Hermione stopped and looked at him. "It's okay, Harry," Hermione said soothingly, "It's just the stress. You've been so wound up over Sirius, the Veil and sleep walking isn't the most restful sleep. In fact," she barrelled on, "the sleep walking and stress are linked I'm sure." She smiled at him. "Just, get some rest, real rest, no stress, worry, plans or guilt, then, when you want to, come talk to Ron or I."

"Yeah. You know we're always, err, here for you mate." Ron said awkwardly, his ears red.

"Um, cheers guys." Harry resolutely kept looking at his quilt.

"Does anyone know if the bath's safe yet?" Harry asked finally. The bathroom at Number Twelve held a rather handsome free standing bath on blackened silver dragon's feet. Rather disgustingly, when they cleaned the silver feet, they discovered they weren't tarnished metal after all, but instead grimy, very much _real_, preserved baby dragon feet. No one had told Charlie yet. Ginny had promptly stormed into a tearful tirade about how horrid it all was, and Sirius had laughed himself silly. But even then, the bath was a bit of a dubious place, after all it had tried to swallow Mrs Weasley, and frequently was found with the tap running and scummy water overflowing onto the floor.

Ron scratched his ear in thought, glad to move on from the emotional stuff. "I think so. They had Mad Eye look at it. He reckons as long as your wand's in reach, you should be fine."

This didn't cheer Harry at all. "I'm underage; I can't use my wand in the holidays."

"Then you'll just have to yell for us." Hermione replied. "Go on, a bath will do you good."

-0-

Harry paused outside his bedroom door, towel in hand. He thought Ron and Hermione would have learnt to wait longer after he'd left the room before discussing whatever it was they obviously wanted him out the way for. Or at least talk in quieter voices.

"I'm worried about him Ron." Hermione sighed.

"There's nothing we can really do though, is there?" Ron asked. Harry was surprised to hear him sound so mature. "Except hang around and be his friend."

"If he lets us." Hermione sighed again. "I just don't know what we've done wrong!" She exclaimed suddenly. "Half the time he's Harry, and the other half, it's, it's like he's someone else! He snubs us, hardly knows what we're going on about half the time, the acts more friendly with Remus than he does us for heaven's sake!"

"Maybe he's just stressed, like you said." Ron supplied. "You know how he retreats and goes all quiet and moody when he's stressing."

"Yeah." Harry had the distinct impression she was trying not to smile. "At least he's not totally withdrawn though. Maybe you're right, maybe he's just trying to connect with his parent's friends some more. You know how he's been trying to get to know Sirius more. And Ginny as well." She giggled. "Oh don't look like that Ron. Ginny's over the moon. And now what with Voldemort, and the Veil, and the Ministry playing up...I just don't know Ron, I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Harry." She paused. "I couldn't live with myself if he was taken from me."

They were silent. Then Ron spoke in a forcedly cheery voice. "Hey, I'll know what will make you feel better...look Hermione, a book! _The Magical Ministry and its Many Mysteries_. Remus recommended it if we were trying to read up on the Veil-"

Harry suddenly found he'd eaves dropped enough, and hurried to take his bath. And for the last time, didn't they know his name was James? On the way, he bumped into a blushing Ginny, who made him wait whilst the fetched him some bath product.

"It'll help you relax." She said haltingly. "I use it. It's, nice."

"Um, thanks." Harry looked at the bottle bemusedly. "I'll make sure to use it then."

"Great." Ginny grinned, then caught herself and suppressed it to a smile. "Bye, Harry."

"Yeah, bye." Harry was left staring after her as she all but fled back to her room. What was that about? He suddenly had a horrid though that she'd stopped being angry at him for 'leading her on'. Did that meant she was going to try to flirt with him again? Was she going to try and _kiss_ him again? He knew she had only done it to wind her brother up, but still... But he pushed it from his mind, and focused on the bathroom door. Right. He was going to show that bath who was boss. And he would relax. And everything would be _great_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Half Lives – Chapter Ten  
><strong>

Harry sighed. Ever since his _minor_ panic attack, the household had been walking on egg shells, staring at him like he was some exotic creature; incredibly rare, incredibly dangerous, and incredibly breakable. It got Harry's hackles up. There were two exceptions though; as always. Hermione, although convinced he was over-doing it, was still the same nagging, helpful Hermione she'd always been. On the other side, Ron was also different. He had somehow found something in Harry's situation to be jealous of, or so Harry assumed, because Ron currently wasn't talking to him. He seemed to be aware of his actions though, because he still snapped at his mother whenever she got too overbearing, and made an effort to treat Harry the same as ever. Harry knew that as long as he wasn't monopolising their joint best friend, then Ron was happy.

_Ah_.

Something clicked in Harry's head. It made him feel a little uneasy. Did he want his best friend to start fancying his other best friend? Where would that leave him? Wouldn't it be weird? What if they broke up? And for that matter, when did this start and why didn't Ron consult Harry before embarking on this...this..._fancy_?

Harry realised that maybe he was overreacting, and maybe he didn't really have a say in it. He sighed again.

-0-

"If it's really that odious to research how to help your own godfather cope with his depression, caused by years at the mercy of soul-sucking monsters because he was loyal to your parents, then maybe you would care to join Ron and research why the Veil didn't kill you?" Hermione snapped, looking up suddenly.

Harry wisely didn't sigh again. He was silent for awhile, the only sound in the boys' bedroom was the turning of pages as the three friend read various books on various unappetising topics. Then Harry threw down the muggle library book and gave Hermione a funny half smile. "Go on then. Pass me a new one. This book on depression is making _me_ depressed."

Hermione smiled back, and heaved a small thin book over to him. "_Ways of Wizards_." She declared. "It's full of legends and myths." As soon as the book fell into Harry's outstretched hand, his other hand flew out to help. For such a tiny book, it weighed a ton. "Learn anything new about Sirius?" Hermione asked carefully, aware that it was a stressful topic.

Harry shrugged. "He still talks to James at night." Harry admitted. "But I don't mind so much. It helps him, and we're getting to know him." Hermione gave him a disapproving look, she agreed with their old defence professor about Harry's night time talks with his godfather. "And I try to get him to talk about, feelings, stuff, in the day. But it's not exactly easy. The parents don't want me to talk to him, and the only activity he's got any interest in is moping and brooding. He ignores me mostly." Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and leant over to squeeze his hand. Ron snorted. Harry ignored him. "On the up side," Harry continued brightly, "he thinks Tonks is in love with Remus, and he's been trying to stick them together. It's true." He added seeing their faces. "But now Tonks is all anguished and embarrassed with Sirius for stepping in to sort out her love life, so she's angry at Sirius. And Remus can't believe that Sirius would mess around with Tonks' feelings without consulting either of them, so he's angry with Sirius. And Sirius tells us about this injustice all. The. Time."

"Well," Hermione said eventually, "at least he's talking to you. Interacting. Extending his life beyond his own existence. That's what you wanted right?"

James didn't bother to point out that no, what he really wanted, was a family again. Trust Sirius to work in the wrong direction and mess the plan up. "I just, I finally have something good here, Hermione." Harry said finally. His new life plan included telling his friends these things; secrets, thoughts, emotions and such. Bottling them up led to unadvisable trips to the Ministry. From the corner Ron asked if they hadn't been good enough for him over the past five years. Both Harry and Hermione ignored him. "But Sirius isn't cooperating. But that's okay, because he's ill. So, I'm going to make him better. Then I'm going to make him my godfather." That Get A Godfather plan was really coming along nicely.

"And he doesn't have any choice in the matter, right?" Hermione asked, amused at his tone.

"Right."

Harry gave Hermione a slightly sickly smile. He didn't tell her that he hadn't been exactly present for the entirety of the conversation. He hoped James hadn't said anything. Harry's insides knotted. What had seemed a noble endeavour at first, learn more about his father in order to help his godfather, was beginning to spiral out of control. He could hear James laugh in the back of his head when he tried to sleep.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, after Harry had escaped from a dinner where everyone had tried to avoid looking at Harry but avoid being seen to avoid him, Harry was completely un-avoided by Ginny. She had surprised him whilst he was on his way to the attic. Harry had jumped, and Ginny used the advantage to crowd him into a corner. Crowd was an accurate verb, Harry thought dazedly. Red hair and flashing eyes seemed to have wormed their way into ever corner of his vision and thoughts, suffocating him from the rest of the world.<p>

-0-

"Well Harry." She began in a self-important tone. "I don't know what's going on with you right now – Cirice knows you three never tell me anything, and you haven't exactly been constant – but I realise that my little speech to you about not toying with me, and me then turning round and using you to get at Ron – sorry about that by the way, well, I doubt it's going to help whatever is happening to you. So, I give up." She said with an air of finality, moving back. Harry irrationally felt like there was suddenly more oxygen in the air. "Don't think I didn't mean what I said, because I still think you have treated me awfully. I didn't think you had it in you. And don't think I'm giving up on you just yet, but I'm, backing off, for want of a better word. Drama and whatever it is that keeps not-happening between us isn't going to help you, especially after your attack the other day. So, I'll just, give you time." She exhaled with a nod, said goodbye, and, with a sudden air of self-consciousness, turned and left.

Harry wondered what it was with people staging meaningful, shadowy discussions behind not closed doors and suddenly developing likings for long, overly practiced and self-important monologues these days. But, he shook his head, what did he know? He barely knew anyone here, and he spent most of his thoughts trying to get Evans to talk to him, after all.

And Fleur, Fleur was another matter entirely. She was possibly more troublesome than the house' new argument and monologue habits. It was bad enough the whole house was poisoned against her, convinced she had stolen Bill and was now stealing Harry just to flaunt it in their faces. But the effect she had on James! It made Harry go red just thinking about it. He didn't want to hear those sorts of things from his own father. Even if it was a pseudo version that had taken up residence in his own head. Harry was just glad Bill and Fleur only visited on weekends. James disagreed.

* * *

><p>Harry spent much of the next week trying to ignore James and think about Ginny. Having James talk directly to him without experiencing a blackout was new, and it scared Harry. He felt surer than ever that he should tell someone about James. His Anti-Catastrophe Plan could only succeed if he admitted that sometimes he needed help, not just with executing ideas, but also with understanding the potentially important events of his chaotic life as well. And Harry knew that the blackouts would be counted as potentially important.<p>

But he didn't want to think about that. So he thought about Ginny. She had been true to her word and had given him space ever since she crowded him into the corner after dinner. It was an admirable effort, actually, considering that they both lived in the same small house and had to eat every meal together. Harry knew Ginny used to have a crush on him, but he had thought that with her recent interest in Michael Corner, or Dean Thomas or whoever, that she had moved on and forgotten about it. Over the last year they had slowly become something close to friends in their own right, not just the little sister and the best friend of Ron Weasley. And whilst having Ginny nearly kiss him (he still didn't understand why she did that to annoy her brother) had been unexpected, it wasn't wholly unwelcome. Harry found it too odd to think about Ron's little sister like that (it was Ginny after all), but the idea didn't give him the heebie-jeebies like it once would have. Harry had vaguely wondered what that meant, but at that moment James resurfaced and began annoying Harry (one of his favourite pastimes), and Harry was suitably distracted from the awkward feelings that arose when he thought about Ginny. Unfortunately, that also meant he had to deal with thinking about James again.

-0-

"Sorry, what did you say?" Harry looked up suddenly. He was sitting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea in front of him, and Ron and Hermione relaxing in chairs opposite. His stomach felt sick.

"Honestly, Harry, weren't you listening?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "I said reading about depression is all very well, but I'm not sure how just reading is going to help Sirius."

Harry glanced around the room worriedly. What had he been doing? He thought back. The last thing he remembered was brushing his teeth after breakfast. After that...nothing. Maybe a more appropriate question was – what had James been doing? Harry took a sip of tea to cover his confusion. "Urgh!" He nearly spat the tea back out. "It's cold!"

Ron laughed slightly meanly. "We know," Hermione said sarcastically, "you did exactly the same thing ten minutes ago. It isn't going to warm itself up again."

"Oh yeah." Harry said quietly, with a forced smile. He looked down at his mug. James took sugar with his tea. "I think I'm going crazy." He muttered. Ron sniggered again. He steeled himself; he had to tell someone about his memory blanks. But he opened his mouth to speak, a sudden pain erupted in the base of his skull.

_No! No! I won't let you! They won't understand! They never understand! What will you get out of telling them? They'll only laugh. They never believe you._

Shut up, James. Harry thought grimly.

_They don't even like you. Look at them, look how close they are_.

Harry looked. It was true, they were sitting on their own chairs, but they were leant close together, not touching, but nearly. And they both looked completely unconscious of it. They looked like a pair.

_They are a pair. And there are only two people in a pair. It won't work. They'll never believe you. It won't work._

Harry threw a memory in James' face. He heard the small shriek when James ducked to avoid it. Harry grinned. He was going to tell his friends. But maybe he'd better test the water first. "I don't remember my tea going cold at all. Completely forgot about that."

Hermione laughed. After a moment Harry forced a grin. They thought he was joking. He sagged a little inside. He'd try again later. Maybe. At that he felt James grow smug, and that sparked a hot angry feeling within Harry's heart. No. He was not going to be beaten by his own father. He had thrown off Voldemort's possession, killed a baslisk, and led an rescue party (sort of) to the Department of Mysteries! He was not going to be silenced by his own dead father – he was Harry Potter for magic's sake!

"No!" Harry cried out loud (perhaps a bit more passionately than was required) "You don't understand – I don't remember it at all. In fact," he felt a little heady at his own recklessness by defying that voice in the base of his skull, "I've been forgetting things for weeks!"

-0-

Ron and Hermione stared at him. At some point in his exclamation he had stood up. Suddenly he felt very silly and unsure. "Um, you see the thing is," Harry took a deep breath; he _had_ to tell them this, part of his plan to stop more disasters like the Department of Mysteries from happening again was to tell people things not deal with it himself...but he would still rather not tell them. Here's goes nothing.

"The thing is, those memory blanks, they're not new. I've had them all summer." He didn't dare meet anyone's eyes, so he pushed his hand through his hair (letting James guide its movement to stop his hair looking worse than before he'd started) and focused on the patch of air near Ron's left ear "And they're getting longer. At first I'd just miss a few minutes of conversation or something, I thought I'd drifted off. But now I blink and I'm in a different room, with different people, and it's eight hours later, and I don't remember _anything_, and I don't know what's going on, and in the Ministry Voldemort kind of, _possessed_ me, and what if he's doing it again, and I'm endangering you all, and I can't do a thing to stop it, and you're all going to be hurt, and it's because of me, and, and, but it's all just so..." He trailed off shakily; startled to find that at during his confession Hermione had stood up and was now right beside him.

"Oh, Harry." She said in a very sympathetic voice. She carefully wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "I know how hard that was for you to admit." She whispered softly in his ear.

Harry stood stock still for a moment. Then all of a sudden something snapped inside of him, and he clung on to his friend like she was the only solid thing in the universe. "I don't know what's happening to me. I, I'm scared, Hermione."

Standing there, Harry felt as though the whole world had melted away, and it was just him, and a painful void somewhere inside of him that was trying to take over. And Harry felt so alone (but he wasn't), so afraid (but James wasn't) and for once in his life, so ready to give up that he could barely breath. And for once, James had nothing to say to that. So Harry breathed in deeply, tried to stop himself shaking, and squeezed his friend tighter. "Help me, Hermione."

Hermione looked up over Harry's shoulder to the room. Ron was staring at them with a sour expression. "I think we need Professor Dumbledore."


	11. Chapter 11

Half Lives – Chapter Eleven

Hermione and Ron had left Harry in the kitchen after his revelation about his blackouts and James, and had gone directly to Mrs Weasley. They had given her the brief summary, and she had immediately called Dumbledore. He was in a meeting, so he took some time to arrive, and by that time Remus and Sirius had also been fetched and briefed, but it was agreed between the group (much to her irritation) that Harry would be happier if the group was as small as possible, so Mrs Weasley was kindly asked to give them a few minutes. Sadly, Harry's old habits had also kicked in, and he snuck away from the group before Dumbledore could arrive. Quietly he made his way to the safest place he knew- the attic. If he wasn't going to confront the adults about his blackouts, then James wanted Harry to know as much as possible about his father – the more Harry knew, the more he could feed James, and the stronger he would become. Harry may have wanted to talk, but James wasn't going down without a fight.

-0-

Some time later, and James could hear the adults (and Ron and Hermione) getting worried and looking for him. But they were downstairs, and he was safely hidden in amongst the storage boxes. He had felt quite secure and pleased with himself, until Sirius called upon Kreacher. The spiteful House Elf tried to worm his way out of his Master's orders as much as possible, but even he wasn't able to twist '_Find my godson and bring him here immediately, without hurting him_' into something fun, so that was how Harry found himself being interrogated in the kitchen about why he had requested help and then run away when it arrived, to the attic of all places.

"I was looking for stuff about my dad." Harry admitted finally. "Sirius told me how the Ministry couldn't destroy his stuff as evidence and when he came back here, he couldn't look at it, so he just stored it in the loft. There's years worth of letters and photos and things up there."

Remus smiled slightly. "It seemed that every time I looked for you, you were in that attic. But, why? You know you can just ask us if you want to know anything." He added gently, a hopeful look in his eye.

When Harry was reluctant to answer, Dumbledore pressed him further. "Please Harry, anything, even as in consequential as the reading of a muggle book could hold the key about what is happening to you. No matter what it is, you can tell us."

"Those books aren't even about magic, headmaster." Harry protested, picking up on the not so subtle reference to his and Hermione's research. "Honest, it's got nothing to do with this."

Hermione glanced between him and the professor unsurely, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry, but as the professor said, _anything_ could help right now." She began. "Professor, those books were about muggle psychology." She took a deep breath, looking terribly guilty for betraying his friend, but authority rules. "Harry was worried about Sirius, and he begged me to help him. Harry persuaded Fleur Delacour to get us the books from a muggle library not far from here in her name. We were very careful. We knew neither of us could be on any registry anywhere near here. Fleur was the most abstracted person we could think of."

"And the one Harry wanted to _persuade_." Ron muttered darkly.

"He just wanted to help." Hermione finished. "Sorry, Harry, but I had to tell them." She didn't dare meet either the eyes of either Harry or Sirius.

"Harry, I-" Sirius began, but Albus quietened him with a hand.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Remus, can you look over those books for me later?" The other man nodded. "Hexes, enchantments; the usual. We can't risk dismissing the possibility that someone cursed the books intending to hurt the Weasleys through their daughter in law. Now, Harry," he turned serious eyes on the boy, "please continue. I have no doubt that if it was mere curiosity that you would have asked someone here. Is there a reason for this secrecy?"

Sirius made some quiet remonstrations about how Harry shouldn't have been there anyway, as it was full of dangerous artefacts, but Harry pouted and told them against James' better judgement. "I thought, if I knew my father better, when Sirius mistook me for him, I could pretend, and, if Sirius believed I was my father, if he physically heard us say we forgave him and such, he might stop feeling so guilty. So James has been trying to help Sirius move on and get better." He looked at the table again.

"Harry, I _told_ you not to talk to Sirius when he wasn't himself." Remus said tiredly. Harry shrugged.

Dumbledore had fixed Harry with a sharp look however. "Harry, what exactly do you mean when you say "James has been helping"? "

"Like I said, I researched my father, and let Sirius think I was James to help him. But, now, um..." Harry hated his resolutions. They made him _talk_ about things. "...James gets bored. He wants to be out more and more often. At first I just made him be quiet, but he's fighting back, and, and I think sometimes he wins. And then I'm not Harry any more. Well, I am, but I'm not there. James likes that, he finds it funny. Says it's a taste of my own medicine, to be cooped up in the back of our head whilst he's out here having all the fun."

-0-

In the following silence, Dumbledore sighed. He suddenly looked very old. "Harry, I had hoped to have this discussion with you when you were older. I admit that perhaps it would have been best to thrash it out when we first met, but you were so young. I did not want to take that away from you. Youth is measured in more than years, my boy, and it should be treasured dear." He glanced around the others in the room. "I had also hoped to have this conversation in privacy, but I think given the circumstances, this will have to suffice." He looked over his spectacles at the boy seriously. "I have been talking some old colleagues, following trails long gone cold, and generally poking my nose in where it isn't wanted. And from it all I can only come to one conclusion. Now, before I tell you this, you must understand that it is not yet certain. I strongly suspect it, yes, but we have not as of yet proven it. What I have to tell you, Harry, may seem fantastical and deranged, but it is all of it the truth. And it all pertains to the life of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, his quest for immortality, and that scar upon your forehead..."

-0-

"It is my belief," Dumbledore concluded, after shocking them all with the revelation of Voldemort's Horcruxes, "that when you fell through the Veil, the Horcrux embedded in your being was taken by Death. This does make our job slightly easier, as, with the Diary accounted for, we are left with but five Horcruxes, one of which I hope to locate later this summer. Yet we are not all smiles. With Voldemort's Horcrux removed, Harry, your mind had one less soul than it was accustomed to. To rectify this, and return itself to what it saw as the norm, your magic reached out which, with the emotional ties between yourself and your father, and with the strong magic of the dead present within the Veil, resulted the soul of James Potter being, ensnared, shall we say, and incorporated into your own."

Harry gave Dumbledore an incredulous look, but he couldn't deny the heavy, sick weight that had settled in his stomach. He had been a Horcrux? He had Voldemort's _soul_ within him? And he hadn't known?

Sirius delicately cleared his throat.

"No, Sirius," Dumbledore said, anticipating his question, "even if we could obtain James' body without its years of decay, we could never reunite body and soul. At best we would be left with a crude imitation, an Inferius. No spell can reawaken the dead, as we all know too well. Furthermore, it is unlikely that we have his true soul, more, a fragment of it. And as for your next question, no, I do not believe the Horcrux has left any lasting damage with Harry, nor is any small part of it remaining."

Harry was surprised. He hadn't thought of either of those questions. But he had an awful lot more. Just as soon as he stopped feeling shocked and sick, he'd ask...

-0-

"D.I,D!" Hermione yelled out suddenly. So sudden, in fact, that Ron jumped and almost fell off his seat.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder." Hermione clarified, apparently.

"What?"

"We came across it whilst reading, Harry." Hermione began in a rush. "I first I thought it might work, you know, for our project-" Harry sighed, Hermione may as well have waved a flag saying 'SIRIUS HAS DEPRESSION'. "-but I discounted it almost straight away, anyway; now with you it fits perfectly!" She shifted in her seat. "Okay Headmaster, I'll go along with your theory that the Veil removed an extra soul, not Harry's, which is why he didn't die, because he's a Horcrux-"

"Was, a Horcrux, Miss Granger." Dumbledore corrected softly.

"But, no matter how fantastical magic is, I just can't see that James Potter's soul would be stolen to replace it. If anything," she continued briskly, "Harry's soul would have rejected another, now that it has finally reached it natural singular state." Dumbledore didn't seem fazed by his young student's lack of faith, and just motioned for her to go on. "But I will concede that the sudden and brutal removal could have been a severe shock to Harry's mind."

"I wasn't shocked." Harry muttered, grumpy at being discussed as a test subject.

"You probably didn't notice." Hermione assured him offhand. "And with the fall out of the Department of Mysteries, everyone being in and out of St Mungo's, Sirius' depression, Remus' suspicion, the Weasleys' arguing, and Harry's ridiculous penchant for self-blame, it's no wonder he felt overwhelmed by the stress, probably compounded by post-traumatic stress disorder, not only from the Ministry, but also from the Triwizard tournament, the Chamber of Secrets, the fight with Quirrell, and from long term emotional abuse at the Dursleys'-"

At that Harry sat up and started to object, but Hermione was on an analytic roll, and she talked straight over him. "This led to Harry suppressing memories and emotions, and, upon withdrawal from reality caused by a tipping point in his stress levels; this suppression resurfaced and is currently being experienced as a separate identity."

She sat back with a happy expression on her face. "Which has decided to call itself James."

-0-

Everyone else looked less than happy. Ron looked slightly constipated, Sirius was gazing at his godson with forlorn guilt, Remus wore a pensive frown, and Dumbledore had steepled his fingers and was watching Harry gravely.

Harry himself, was trying to wandlessly make the ground swallow him whole. He didn't have post-traumatic stress disorder. His childhood at the Dursleys' hadn't been loving, but it wasn't emotional abuse.

"I wasn't abused." He muttered.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione got her annoying I-know-better smile and patted his arm. "Abuse isn't just physical. They starved you of affection, never gave you enough food for a growing boy, and encouraged the whole neighbourhood to persecute you. At the very least that's a strong case for neglect."

"They didn't neglect me!" Harry swung his head up to look at her fiercely. "They only did those things because I was trouble! I threatened their happy little lives."

"They kept you in a cupboard." Ron spoke up for the first time.

"What?" Harry spat. "I never told you."

"The twins." Ron said simply. "When they sprang your trunk free, they could feel it. They didn't want to question and upset you, but they told me later." He looked down at his hands and spoke quietly. "They could feel the self-protective magic a mile off. There were locks on the outside. And you'd written your name on the wall."

"They were scared of me. I was magic. It was for my own good."

The whole kitchen sat in silence.

-0-

Harry scowled and picked at a spare thread on the hem of his t-shirt. Defensive and angry thoughts chased themselves around his head. How dare they make accusations like that? They hadn't been there. They had no idea what had happened. They-

Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly. "Whatever you say, Harry." He said quietly. Harry didn't look up, but he could feel the surprised and sympathetic looks from the room. He could also feel Remus' disapproving and hinting look towards Sirius. "But we _will_ talk of this later." Sirius added.

Harry finally looked up at that. He glanced at Hermione. She looked shocked and slightly scared of what she had caused with her thoughtless words. Harry sighed angrily but didn't meet anyone's eyes. He took pity on them and their silence. "So, you think I've got multiple personality disorder then, Hermione?"


	12. Chapter 12

Half Lives – Chapter Twelve

Harry Potter threw a tantrum.

He didn't think he'd ever done so before. Not since his infancy, anyway. But James helped.

He sighed. It had all started out so well.

* * *

><p>In the few days since Dumbledore and Hermione had psycho-analysed him, various people had tentatively tried to talk to him about what had happened. Harry had quickly shut that one down, and, fed up of people treating him like some form of rare and dangerous animal, had taken refuge in his attic. None of this would have happened if James had just done his job. But Harry continued to look for more clues about James. He had foolishly hoped that everything had blown over, until the next Thursday night, when he realised thing could only get worse.<p>

Harry had been called down from his reading to find the whole household, Moody and Dumbledore waiting for him. Hermione had calmly explained that regardless of their differing opinions, Harry had to agree that he was stressed, and was suffering emotional damage from his tumultuous life. So they had taken it upon themselves to find him a psychiatrist. Dumbledore ignored Harry's objections, and had gone to great lengths to make him understand how much work Remus and Mad Eye had put in to screen and secure the psychiatrist in question. Apparently there had been quite a lively debate over muggle or magical. Muggle therapists were undoubtedly more experienced, and would not turn out to be a Death Eater in disguise, but wizards would be able to talk about all aspects of Harry's life, and could protect themselves if attacked by Death Eaters.

Things had gone to go a bit downhill then, when Harry told them exactly what he thought of their plan, and where they could stick their work.

They had decided on magical. A psychiatrist had been chosen, and a location scouted and secured. Harry was to leave that day.

Harry was not going to go voluntarily.

There had been words. Possibly harsh ones, and possibly in loud voices.

Then Harry had his idea. It was rather a good one, he thought. "Fine. I'll go to the shrink's. I'll talk to her. I'll go through the whole-" then he'd said a word that made Hermione scold him, them, "-plan. But only if Sirius goes too." Moody had started grumbling about how he hadn't been running all over the country for the past week (when his hip was playing up too) to arrange the plan, only to have it jeopardised by the presence of an unstable war veteran who couldn't control himself. Sirius had shouted. Remus had argued. Hermione looked like she was about to cry. Harry had pointed out that he didn't want Sirius with him, he wanted Sirius to see his own shrink.

Everyone had gone a bit silent upon hearing that anouncement; Harry had held his head high and stuck his ground. Sadly, his plan was not met with approval. So, Harry had thrown a tantrum. He had yelled, he had threatened and mugs had rattled. He had still failed.

-0-

Harry glowered at the room tiredly. He couldn't see why Dudley did this all the time. It was tiring. And he hadn't even got his way. Harry decided to avoid tantrums from now on.

"Harry, that was very childish of you." Remus said. "You shouldn't throw tantrums at your age."

"Yeah?" Harry felt rather reckless. He felt that they could all be thrown to the dogs for all he cared. He felt like James was dictating his emotions again. "Well you weren't around to suffer my tantrums as a kid, so I guess I'm throwing them all now!"

"Harry, please calm yourself." Dumbledore said gently. "Whilst you concern for your godfather is admirable, it is sadly far too impractical. But," he held up a hand when Harry went to interrupt, "although Sirius cannot leave this house, I will concede that something can be done. Madam Pomffry can be called upon to treat any physical manifestations, her Healers oath will forestall her informing the ministry. Hestia Jones has received extensive training in criminal psychology, and she may be of us in rehabilitating a released prisoner, such as Sirius. And Severus might be able to achieve some peace of mind by Occlumency exercises and active Legimency upon Sirius."

That idea hadn't gone down so well. Sirius looked half mad as he ranted and raved at anyone who suggested Snape be in the same room as him, let alone inside his head. Harry knew the feeling. But he also wondered how the others could deny help to a man who was not only at risk from Death Eaters' wands, but also from his own. "Maybe," Dumbledore said finally, sounding quite exhausted, "maybe I could leave the school occasionally to help Sirius, instead of Severus."

Everyone looked between Albus and Sirius. They nodded amicably at each other.  
>"Great." Harry said. "So, who's my shrink?"<p>

* * *

><p>The next week went achingly slowly for Harry and James. The latter was sulking, because Harry had told everyone about his existence, and he was taking his bad mood out on Harry by playing up to the gossip that Fleur was entrancing Harry for her own amusement. Which made Harry's life surprisingly hard, as Bill began to look at him sharply, Hermione started giving speeches about the dangers of dating older women and the value of fidelity, and all the good progress with Ginny was undone. So far, Fleur was taking it all in her stride, keeping her head held high and refusing to be tripped up by the barbed questions and comments thrown at her by the household. But worse was the sure knowledge that soon Harry was going to see a psychiatrist, as he had either unwittingly become a vessel for a splinter of his father's soul, or had Dissociative Identity Disorder. Every two days Moody would stop by with news of their search for a "safe" location and doctor, and both James and Harry began to feel sick when he announced that they had found a suitable candidate and were progressing with the security arrangements. Harry knew he should feel glad – he was going to get help (for problems he still stubbornly didn't believe in) and so was Sirius, but he mostly just regretted his decision to speak up about his blackouts in the first place. So it was with great trepidation that Harry greeted Moody and Remus when they arrived on Saturday afternoon to take him to his first therapy session.<p>

-0-

"Hermione," Harry said in a small voice, leaning into her shoulder as they stood in the threshold between kitchen and hallway- Harry's guard of Mad Eye Moody and Remus were waiting patiently next to the front door, along with Sirius, Ron, Mrs Weasley and Ginny who were all clustered on the stairs watching. "Hermione I don't want to go to the therapist's."

Hermione would be the first to admit she wasn't the most, soppy, of girls, but having her best friend practically curling into her shoulder, turning his back on the rest of the household and whispering such an emotional admission to her, well, Hermione thought no one could blame her if she mothered Harry a bit. "Oh Harry." She said softly, idly trying to brush his hair flat. "I know you don't want to, but you've got to go." She had to dip her head slightly to look him in the eye, because he was resolutely trying to hide behind his fringe. "It's for your own good. I know we disagree on the Dursleys' actions, but you've got to see how it and all your 'crazy adventures' is affecting you. You need someone to talk to. Someone disinterested, who can help you." She pulled him into a hug.

Being a man and not a weedy little boy Harry resolutely didn't hug her back. But he may have leaned in a little bit.

"It won't make you any less of a big strong man, you know." Hermione said with a small smile as she pulled back. "Now," she continued, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the others, "mind you ps and qs, don't get lost, and remember to say thank you." She pushed him towards the door with a small laugh.

Harry stumbled before finding his footing and hovering uncertainly near the door. "Are we going then?" He asked resentfully. The only answer he got was a sharp rap on the head as Moody disillusioned him, and snigger from Remus, then, they were gone.

-0-

Hermione leant against the doorframe and sighed as she watched the door close.

"Oh come off it, Hermione, Harry's a big strong boy," Ron's words had a bitter twist, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"He didn't want to go." Hermione said in a soft voice. "Was it wrong for me to make him?"

"Well, you've always looked after Harry before now, haven't you?" Ginny threw in. "It's you he turns to for comfort, not Ron or I, why should we have an opinion?"

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "Watch your tone young lady!"

Ginny made a face and stomped upstairs. They watched her go. Her bedroom door slammed seconds later.

"She's right though." Ron muttered. "It's not like we ever get a look in. It's always you and Harry."

"Ron!" Hermione cried in dismay, "Don't say that!"

"Well it is, isn't it?" Ron replied tersely, not meeting her eyes. "This whole holiday you two have been curled up together! All nice and cosy in your own little world. Well I exist too you know!"

Hermione rocked back on her heels in shock. Ron seemed to realise what he said and ran off. Another bedroom door slammed.

Mrs Weasley looked between Hermione and the stairs uncertainly. "I'm sorry dear." She said gently. "They'll calm down soon enough. I don't know what's gotten into them." But she followed them upstairs.

-0-

Hermione could hear knocking, and then Mrs Weasley's voice asking Ginny to let her in. She stood in the hallway, feeling slightly shell-shocked. "What, was that about?"

"They're jealous."

Hermione jumped, she'd forgotten Sirius was in the hallway also.

"You know how Ginny feels about Harry. And Ron," Sirius paused, he wasn't sure if he should reveal what everyone but Ron and Hermione could see, "Ron always was a little jealous of Harry anyway."

"But, but, I don't like Harry." Hermione said faintly. "I mean, yes, I like him, he's great, but not, _like_ like-" she stammered.

Sirius smiled and took pity on her. "He's your little brother?"

"Exactly. He looks up to me to make things right and to soothe him. Ron must think- I couldn't-" Sirius just smiled knowingly at her, and disappeared of into the mouldering house.

* * *

><p>Hermione was sitting nervously at the kitchen table when Harry, Remus and Moody returned. She jumped up when they entered the kitchen. Harry sat down heavily whilst Remus busied himself making a pot of tea. Moody, sociable as ever, just nodded to Remus, and left almost immediately.<p>

"How was it?" Hermione asked timidly, slipping back into her seat.

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry said gloomily.

They sat in silence. Awkward on Hermione's part, and sullen on Harry's. Remus set tea down in front of them all. "I'll just take these to the others." He said quietly, leaving the kitchen with a procession of cups of tea floating behind him. The tea had gone almost cold before the next person spoke.

"It wasn't an office." Harry said suddenly. "I thought they'd take me to some shrink's office, but apparently even though they'd investigated the lady, all her staff, and patients, they couldn't have me with a stranger in an "unsecured location"." He stopped speaking again as suddenly as he'd started. "We were on grassy headland. By the sea."

Hermione looked up in surprise. "You went to the seaside?" She asked disbelievingly.

"Yep. Moody was going on about how they could see anyone coming, and apparently you can't plant bugs in a wholly natural environment. Need something artificial to attach it to." He frowned. "Hermione, how does a wizard plant bugs?"

"Eaves dropper spells." Hermione muttered. "Spy Eyes. Or Extendible Ears now, I guess. But, the _seaside_?"

"Yeah. Then at the end Dumbledore turned up with a picnic."

"Harry, are you sure you weren't asleep? This sounds like a very surreal dream to me."

Harry grinned. He was silent for a moment. "The Durselys never took me to the sea." Hermione reached across the table and took hold of his hand. Harry didn't look up, but when Hermione squeezed, he returned it gratefully.

Unseen, Ron stepped drew back from the door with an anger he couldn't explain.


	13. Chapter 13

Half Lives – Chapter Thirteen

Against his better judgement, Harry actually quite liked their psychiatrist. James, naturally, hated her, but then, James was always the one who messed everything up. Harry didn't even realise that James had been talking to the psychiatrist until one day she asked Harry about a story that happened before he was born.

Harry also never found out how Sirius was progressing. By some tactic agreement, Harry was always at the psychiatrist's whenever Dumbledore or Hestia Jones came to call. Harry supposed it was for the best – they didn't want him trying to help and accidentally becoming James permanently or something, but he wished they would at least tell him how Sirius was. Once Harry had returned to Grimmauld minutes before Dumbledore left, and so he was able to witness Sirius storming out of the room in a black mood, leaving Dumbledore to sigh and clear up the mess. The whole house appeared to have clubbed together in order to protect Harry, as even Fleur had returned every library book and closed her library account one day whilst Harry was out of the house, and Remus had set up a charm around Harry's bed which woke Remus the moment Harry tried to sneak out to go wandering in the night. This annoyed Harry for three reasons; one, it was a charm used to keep toddlers in their cots, which Harry most certainly was not – two, it made using the toilet in the middle of the night really time consuming– and three, thanks to the combined efforts of the house, the only time Harry saw Sirius now was at meal times. And, given that James normally was in full force when they were actually together, and that more often than not Sirius thought Harry was James regardless of who was actually present, Harry felt like the number of conversations between himself and his godfather for the whole summer could be counted on one hand.

Another person who had been conspicuously absent in Harry's new therapy-led life, was Ginny. He hadn't really seen her since she had confronted him a couple of weeks ago. Sure, like Sirius, Harry saw her at meals, but then she was generally sat at the other end of the table, chatting to a still brown-haired Tonks, and completely ignored him. Tonks had been spending more and more time at Number Twelve recently. Normally Order members were only present at meetings, or for a few hours on the weekend, but it seemed to Harry that Tonks was here for dinner nearly every night. He had expected James to be more vocal on the subject, as Tonks spent most of her time either pointedly ignoring Remus or trying in vain to talk to him, but James appeared to have become mute. Harry wasn't fooled, he knew this didn't mean that he had disappeared, more that, rather like Voldemort, when James was silent, it meant he was gathering strength and plotting. Harry never thought he would compare the most feared Wizard of the past three generations with his dead father, but that was magic for you.

"Knut for 'em?"

Harry started. Sitting down next him in his little attic-den, was Ginny. "H-How long have you been there?"

"Oh a few minutes."

Harry squirmed slightly, unsure of how to ask. "I didn't, say anything, did I?"

"No. You were just thinking. I don't think you noticed me."

Relief flooded Harry. He had noticed that James often liked to be in charge when Ginny was around – he found it funny to pretend to be Harry around her. Harry didn't think James had taken over just then, but he wasn't sure.

Noticing his discomfort, Ginny took pity on him, by starting a very uncomfortable conversation. "So, I hear you're either mad or are harbouring the spirit of your dead father."

"Yeah." Harry fiddled with the hole in his sock instead of looking up at her.

"So I guess half the time I was with you, I was with your dad instead."

If that wasn't disturbing, Harry didn't know what was. "Guess so."

Ginny seemed to think this over. "I can't really stay mad at you for messing me around then, can I?"

"You're still mad?" Harry asked, looking up in shock.

"Yes, Harry, I'm still mad."

"But, you said-"

She sighed. "Yeah. I said. I lied."

"Oh."

Harry looked back down and picked at his sock sullenly. He didn't want Ginny to be mad. And he didn't want her to lie about it to him. If she was mad with him, then he, he, he didn't know, but it wasn't right. It made his insides feel all twisted up and rotten. Was this how Ron felt when Hermione was angry? Harry thought maybe it was. He also thought what that meant for him and Ginny, but he felt odd thinking such things when she was sitting right next to him, so he gave it to James to think about. "What are you doing up here?" He asked instead.

"Looking for you." Ginny smiled. "What are you doing up here?"

"I'm not meant to be here, am I?" Harry asked.

"No. Everyone would be very angry, and disappointed, if they knew."

"Guess that's why I'm here then." Harry shrugged. "Are you? Disappointed?"

"No. After all, you're not trying to resurrect you dad up here or anything. You're just hiding from the well-meaning, but ultimately infuriating, people who live here."

Harry smiled slightly. "Exactly."

"I can fix that, you know." She said suddenly. "The hole, in your sock. I could fix that, if you want."

"Oh." Harry let go of the loose threads abruptly. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Ginny patted him on the knee. "Come on, get up and let's go back downstairs." Seeing his face, she added, "The adults are in a meeting, and I think Hermione is yelling at Ron for being angry with you over nothing. It'll be fun."

* * *

><p>They found Ron and Hermione in the boys' room, wading about in what seemed to be a forest of books. "What on earth are you doing now?" Ginny asked, as she and Harry found a free square meter of floor space to stand in.<p>

"These are all the books we used to research the Veil, you know, after Harry didn't die." Hermione explained, as Ron had turned his back on them in the pretence of stacking some already stacked books. "We – I – thought that as Harry is in therapy now, and Dumbledore is working on what to do about this supposed 'extra soul', we don't really need to keep investigating why Harry didn't die. So, we're returning the books where we found them."

"You used all of these?" Harry asked in shock.

Hermione smiled guiltily. "Yes, well, whilst you may have lost interest in it, Ron and I continued whilst you were reading muggle psychology." Harry looked at Ron in shock – he had continued _reading_ to help Harry, even though they weren't speaking? "In fact, it was Ron who made the connection." Hermione continued. "He found a bit which explained how medieval muggles had used another similar artefact to drive out spirits that were 'possessing' their relatives. Of course," Hermione stopped and considered, "it didn't really work, as normally there wasn't a possession in the first place, and so often the relative died, but it worked sometimes. Anyway, Ron remarked that it sounded like a muggle psychological condition we'd read about a few weeks earlier."  
>"And you didn't think to mention this <em>before<em> you had to stage an intervention on Harry?" Ginny asked pointedly.

Hermione looked a bit abashed. "Well, I didn't take it seriously until Dumbledore mentioned about the Horocrux-" she stopped and looked at Ginny, who waved her off – secrets were hard to keep private in such a claustrophobic house "- but Ron was on it straight away."

Harry continued staring at Ron, whose neck and ears had gone very pink. "And you didn't-"

"Well I thought that since you and Hermione are so close, she would tell you in one of your little sessions together." Ron snapped angrily without turning round.

"Oh come off it, Ron." Harry replied.

"No you come off it!" Ron spun round then, finally facing Harry.

-0-

Harry stopped short – his mouth was open, his wand in his hand, and everyone had moved in the time it took him to blink. They were also staring at him in shock.  
>"Wow Harry," Ginny said, slightly in awe, from his side, "I don't think I've ever heard you yell at Ron like that."<p>

What? He most certainly hadn't been yelling, he was just going to tell Ron off for being an insensitive prat, when-

"And your insults have gotten more creative too. I'm impressed." Ginny continued.

Insults? What, Harry hadn't- Oh no. Harry groaned. "What did I just do?"

Hermione, perceptive as always, took in the defeated look on his face, and understood immediately. "It wasn't very long." She said soothingly. "Two minutes at most. He just shouted and insulted Ron, his heritage, his personal habits, and his morals, and basically called him an idiot for his behaviour over the last few weeks. Which," she continued on bravely, "although I don't agree with the choice of language, but I must say, the sentiments were absolutely correct."

Ron looked ready to shout at her too, and Ginny was horribly confused, when Harry felt up to speaking – "James has been really quiet ever since I went to that psychiatrist." He said slowly. "I'm surprised he came out to tell Ron off. Sorry, Ron, for whatever he said. Our opinions are completely separate, you know."

Ron closed his mouth and nodded stiffly.

-0-

"That, was one of the most disconcerting things I have ever seen." Ginny breathed. "It, it was just like you, but like something had snapped and you just went crazy!"

Harry winced.

"I don't think that's helping, Ginny." Hermione said gently. "But, if James is quieter now, that is good, isn't it, Harry?" She asked tentatively.

"No, I don't think so." Harry finally remembered to put his wand away. "I think he's trying to lull me into a false sense of security, or saving himself up for something."

"Oh."

-0-

"How can we know if we're talking to you or James?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"Ask him something only Harry would know." Hermione supplied immediately.

"No, that won't work." Harry cut her off. "I can remember everything he remembers, so I'm betting he knows everything I know too."

"So we have no way of knowing if you are yourself or not..." Ginny said awkwardly. Everyone was suddenly struck with the idea that they could be talking to James masquerading as Harry, and no one liked it.

"They act different." Ron said abruptly, as though speaking was against his better judgment. "James looks like Harry, but he doesn't act the same. He moves his hands when he talks, and he makes constant eye contact, and he has better posture."

Everyone looked at Ron in shock. His ears, which had calmed down over the course of the conversation, flared a bright red again. He shifted from foot to foot, and knocked over a pile of books. "Come on, Harry." He said gruffly, not meeting anyone's eyes, "I reckon neither of us wants to help stack books. Let's scarper before she makes us play librarian." He picked his way across the floor and stood in the doorway awkwardly, still avoiding looking directly at anyone. "You coming?"

"Yeah..." Harry glanced at the girls, who both shrugged. Ron's moods were a law unto themselves. "Let's go get my arse kicked at chess."


	14. Chapter 14  And So It Ends

**Half Lives – Chapter Fourteen**

Harry thought that Mrs Weasley must be feeling guilty for keeping Harry and Sirius apart for so long, or maybe she just pitied them, because she was getting almost fierce in ensuring they sat next to each other at meal times. "No, Tonks, you can't sit there." She snatched up Tonks' plate and nearly slammed it down two seats along. It was a small group in the kitchen that evening – just the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Harry and Hermione. "I mean," Mrs Weasley corrected hastily, "sit next to me, Tonks dear, I want to talk to you about Bill. Now, please, give me your professional opinion, do you honestly think that Curse-Breaker is a suitable occupation for a man about to start a family?" So saying, a blushing Mrs Weasley removed the last obstacle, and sat down with Tonks at the dinner table, leaving Harry free to sit next to Sirius.

Harry looked up and met Ron's eyes. Ron twirled his finger in a spiral next to his head. Clearly, he had also noticed his mother's strange behaviour. Harry sniggered. Sirius fixed Harry with a stern look. Harry turned his snigger into a cough, and tried to cover it up by saying, "So, Ron, do you think they will let us visit the twins when we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

"Dunno. Hope so. –Can you pass the potatoes?- Fred said they've been working on an anti-Death Eater line. Of course, they aren't calling it that, but personally I'd like to see a load of five year olds running about taking on Death Eaters with Weasley products."

"Ron!" Hermione chided him. "You can't say that! Imagine if Ginny-"

"Geeze, Hermione, it was a joke!"

"Yeah, and I'm not five!" Ginny put in from the other side of her father.

"We are going shopping to buy everything on our lists, not to try out new Skiving Snackboxes. We'll be going into our sixth year, so I hope you boys are going to actually read the textbooks you buy this year?" Hermione asked sternly.

"Yes, we will, Hermione." Harry sighed. "It's a very important year, only one year from NEWTS – we know!"

"Okay," Hermione had the grace to blush, "I know maybe I've reminded you one too many times, but you've got to think you're Quidditch Captain now, Harry, and not to mention you'll have your lessons with Dumbledore all year..." She lowered her voice as she said that last, but raised it to normal volume again as she continued; "so you're going to have to be more organized than ever if you want to do yourself justice."

"She's right," Sirius said abruptly from next to Harry, "you will be under a lot more pressure this year, Harry. Not only Quidditch and Dumbledore, but Voldemort has made his move, and it seems unlikely that he will let it rest at that. And I know that James has already been through his sixth year once, but we can't guarantee he will want to help you."

Harry poked the food on his plate awkwardly.

-0-

"Oh don't look at me like that!" Sirius exclaimed suddenly, throwing his fork down. Harry glanced up- Remus and Arthur were giving Sirius pointed looks. "Harry's not going to spontaneously change into James just because I mention him!" He took a deep breath and forced his volume down. "Besides," he continued in a strained voice, "I think we can all agree that this is something worth talking about. Harry-" he looked back to his godson, "This is going to be a hard year for you, and things are only going to get worse, but you can't let that distract you from getting better. I don't want to hear of you avoiding the psychiatrist's, or pretending everything is okay, or something else as silly as that, you hear me? I want you to work hard at this; I would rather you failed all your exams because you were talking to the psychiatrist, than get straight Outstandings, but be more James than Harry. If James-"

-0-

Later, Harry would maintain it was one of the strangest experiences of his life. The last thing he remembered was Sirius giving him an impassioned talk about priorities, and then he assumed that James must have taken over, because the next thing he knew everyone had finished their meal, and he and Sirius were on their feet. Harry was shouting at everyone, and they were trying to calm him down, wands hidden beneath soothing words – whether to subdue or attack him, Harry didn't know. But he couldn't do anything about it, because for the first time, he was fully aware of what was happening, but James was the one in control. It was like watching the scene in a pensive. He was trapped, completely helpless in his own body, by his own father. Which was really unfortunate, as Harry would have given anything to regain control of James right now.

-0-

"No! I'm here to help Sirius! He's the one you should be yelling at!"

Remus stood from the table too, and spoke in a calm voice. "But James, we want to help Harry too. Harry's in trouble."

"Argh no!" James yelled furiously. "Ignore Harry! Don't help him – he's fine! Harry's fine! He doesn't need your attention!" he flung his arm out angrily, as though physically throwing their help aside. "I _do_! Sirius does! I'm here for Sirius! None of the rest of you care. None of you! But I do. I do. I'll help you, Sirius. I'm here for you." His words trailed off into a sad, quiet little repetition. "_I'm_ here." He hung his head and sagged as though all the anger had been let out of him suddenly. He looked up through his hair at Sirius standing in front of him. "I'm here for _you,_ Sirius." He said plaintively. "You _need_ me."

Sirius looked at the boy standing in front of him. He sighed, "Oh James." He held his hand out unsurely.

James grinned wickedly and grasped the proffered hand. "Yes. That's right, Sirius. I'm here for you. That's what brothers do. Brothers to the end. I'll always be here for you, Sirius."

Sirius shook his hand free, and instead used it to clasp James' shoulder, and bent down slightly to look directly into the boy's eyes. "I know you will, James. And that thought has kept me going for so many years now. Look," he took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. For moment he looked as though he was going to be sick. Then he opened them again and continued in a voice laden with significance. "I don't know if you're really James, come back through the Veil, or if you're an evil sprite or curse, taken residence in my godson's mind, or maybe you're even the realisation of Hermione's muggle sickness, but that doesn't matter." James' smile took on a triumphant edge. "Because as much as I would kill to have you back, James old boy, I'd rather have Harry. And if I had to make that choice, it would be Harry. Every time."

The whole room held its breath.

-0-

"Sorry." Sirius let go and straightened up, taking a step back as he did so. He looked ill, but resolute.

James looked at Sirius in horror. He hung his head and half turned from the room. He stood in silence for a moment, and then his shoulders quaked a little, as though he was trying not to cry.

"James-" Sirius started forwards, looking contrite, "forgive me, but it's _Harry_. And that means there's no question, if Harry-"

James' head whipped up and round. His mouth was twisted in a hateful snarl. "Don't. Talk. About. _Harry_!" He roared and flung himself at Sirius, teeth bared and eyes blazing.

"Sirius, no!" Everyone in the room cried out, as James leapt towards Sirius with hate and anger. But Sirius dodged, and James went crashing to the floor.

-0-

The room stopped, shocked, with wands half drawn and shouts of warning dying on their lips. James lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, face hidden and not moving. Dust slowly swirled up around his prone body.

"Harry-" Sirius darted forwards and knelt beside him.

"Sirius, wait-" Remus said warningly, but he was ignored, and Sirius reach out his hand for the second time and gently shook James' shoulder.

The boy stirred slowly, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. His face was streaked with dirt, and his glasses were broken, but his eyes were clear and bright, and his famous scar peeked out from beneath his ragged hair. He looked around the room, and then up at his godfather for reassurance. "Sirius? Why is everyone standing? What am I doing on the floor? What's going on?"

Sirius face relaxed and fell into a grateful smile. "Oh Harry." He said in relief, and, mindless of teenage embarrassment, pulled his godson into a hug.

"Sirius? I'm confused."

* * *

><p>After the incident at dinner, it seemed that even Mrs Weasley was becoming reluctant to let Harry and Sirius even in the same room together. But Harry was going back to Hogwarts in the next week, and he was getting desperate to talk to his godfather. About what, he wasn't sure yet, but it was going to be so much harder to continue with Project Get-A-Godfather when he was all the way in Scotland.<p>

He was still musing on this, when Remus found him some time later, sitting half way up the hallway stairs. "Is everything okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry said automatically. Then with a wince he remembered Project Anti-Catastrophe meant he really shouldn't say he was fine when he wasn't. "How is Sirius doing?" He asked instead.

Remus sat down heavily on the step next to Harry. "He's very angry. At the world in general, I think. But it's a good anger. I think it's always been there, and this s the first time he's let it out. You did a good thing, Harry, insisting he received help. He needs it. Maybe if we had stopped feeling guilty for imprisoning him, and actually thought about his imprisonment, we would have seen that for ourselves." He looked rueful. "You're a good godson to have."

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "Not being much of a godson now, am I?" He asked sullenly. "I'm either mad or half my own father, which I may or may not have brought upon myself. And the last time we had a 'family outing' I almost got my godfather, not to mention my friends, killed. I also destroyed _a lot_ of Ministry property."

Remus smiled. "I think Sirius was quite impressed with that last one, actually." He joked. "But, talking more seriously, Sirius doesn't care if you are mad, or being possessed, or breaking and entering – you are his godson, and that will come before everything in his mind."

Harry snorted disbelievingly, "Yeah, right."

-0-

"Harry, don't you see?" Remus leant down to put his hands on Harry's shoulders and look into his eyes. "The one thing you've been working so hard for this summer is a bond with Sirius. I get it, I really do. You finally have someone to call your own, a place which is actually your own home, and you saw the Weasleys and thought, maybe Sirius and I, maybe we can have a relationship like Ron and Bill, or maybe, if I work really hard, if I'm really good, like Ron and Arthur. But don't you see, Harry? Not only will you never be like them –you two are very much different from the Weasleys- but this isn't something which you put research and work and drive into, and expect to reach a definitive goal. You just run straight at it with your eyes closed, fight and flail a bit, change direction a million times, and basically just wing it and things just seem to work themselves out by a miracle. That's how you've always acted before now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and look how that turned out." Harry grumbled, shuffling his feet, uncomfortable both in Remus' grasp and with how his words hit unnervingly close to home.

"And that's exactly why you're not running blind now, isn't it? The last time you went on instinct you ended up in the Ministry and Sirius almost got himself killed. The exact opposite of what you're working for. So you sat back, decided for a change of tactic, and tried Hermione's approach. Well guess what, Harry, you're not her. I think it's an admirable plan, really I do, but between you and me, Sirius never was much good at this sort of stuff." He joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "It's best just to walk straight up to him and start this sort of thing without giving him time to react."

"Yeah." Harry looked at his feet on the step below. His face felt like it was about to go up in flames he was blushing that much.

"Don't feel embarrassed that I know your plan. It's not easy to see." Remus said, guessing the source of Harry's discomfort. Now it was Remus' turn to blush. "It's all Nymphadora really." He stammered. "She loves people watching. She explained the whole thing to me." He collected himself. "Now, let Albus worry about the Horcruxes, the Order about Voldemort, Hermione about research, and Ron about Ginny. You concentrate on beating James, and for now, Sirius is in the drawing room. Just go and sit next to him, and be his godson. Okay?"

"I don't think I'm meant to talk to him in private." Harry said.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well everyone is certainly doing their hardest to keep us apart. Dumbledore included."

Remus looked around them. "Well, I can't see anyone here to stop you. What they don't know can't harm them, hey?"

Harry smiled, and nodded slightly. "Wish me luck." With a shoulder squeeze from Remus, Harry ducked out the grip, stood up and headed for the drawing room.

He didn't knock, but walked straight in. He sat down next to a surprised looking Sirius. "Hey, Padfoot. So, what do you think I ought to do next time I see Ginny?"

Sirius looked a little lost, but gamely tried to keep up by shrugging. "Well, the way I see it, I've got two options. Run or flirt."

"I don't think I even know how to flirt! I've always heard when you were at school, you..."

-0-

Hermione Granger closed the drawing room door softly on Sirius and Harry talking closely and laughing as if they'd known each other their whole lives. The war may just be beginning, but Harry was happy. She allowed herself a little smile. Her work here was done.

* * *

><p><em>And so it all ends. I'll leave it to you to decide exactly what happened to Harry. We may never know. I do have planned a sort-of sequel, which would follow the books rather closely for as long as I could keep it going, but showing how having a living Sirius would change events (think how he egged Harry on do break the rules and tried to live his life through Harry in OotP), and especially what would happen if Harry had not been a Horcrux for the last two books. But I'm afraid I need the books for research to do this, which due to a change of circumstances I currently don't, and won't have for several months. So, you may just have to decide that for yourselves too.<em>

_Or, if anypone feels up to tackling this monster, message me and I'll give you a more detailed outline of how I imagine the plot would continue.  
><em>

_But, on a related note, if a Basilisk fang, or a sword dipped in Basilisk venom destroys a Horcrux, then why didn't it destroy Harry's when he was bitten in book two?_

_And lastly, I must say thank you to my lovely Reviwers. They have made me laugh and smile throughout the whole story, and they have certainly helped my ego._

_Addicts._


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